Tales of Two Cousins Jess' Tale by Rielle
by Gabrielle Baer
Summary: Jess Harper and his family in Laramie encounter 'The Company', a roving band of renegade former Confederates who have been cutting a murderous, vengeful path across the western territories. And Jess, it turns out, is their primary target.
1. Chapter 1

Mount Up with Wings, as Eagles…''

[ Three Tales of Two Cousins - Second Tale, Part Two - Jess' Tale]

a Laramie/Wagon Train Crossover Fan Fiction-Series by Roniyah Gabrielle Caitrin Bhaer

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength , they shall mount up with wings as eagles they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk, and not faint"KJV/Isaiah 40:31

Author's Note: This is where I could be saying : 'you asked for it.' Because I have been asked to write some Wagon Train and or Laramie fanfiction for the enjoyment [ I hope] of the RFFD list. But I won't say that, honestly. I'd rather just say, please enjoy, please let me know what you think of this latest effort of mine,. But my sole intent is to offer you some enjoyable reading, along with some of my own ideas about the Laramie and Wagon Train characters.

So, you actually SHOULD consider this story as existing in a PARALLEL UNIVERSE , an alternative one to the one presented by those two classic westerns, with some notable variations. And please excuse the liberties I've taken, my 'poetic license', as it were with events, dates, and even names in the lives of the well loved characters in this story. And I took some literary liberties with 'facts not in evidence' in the series as it aired, too, along the lines of things we didn't see or hear on-screen

But if I haven't made it clear enough, as yet, this story wouldn't have been written, without the friendships and fun and such I 'lucked onto' on the Robert Fuller Fandom list. And so because of that, I want and need to genuinely thank all my recently made friends there. I … was grateful just to find all y'all… and now that gratitude is, I hope, clearly shown in these pages

Special thanks go to the Twins, to Moira, Elaine and Yvonne, for reading, saving story files on a regular basis, and encouraging this effort. Very Special thanks go to Cat, for her good words, wonderful feedback, reading and encouragement. Extraordinary thanks, though, **must** go here to an incomparable friend, Barb T., whose unflagging support and willing 'ear', and much more than constructive feedback, especially on this part of MUWWAE has gone far beyond the call of any sort of duty. In fact, if I thought she'd take it, I'd give the woman half the by-line on this as my way of saying, this story of that other 'obstinate black-haired, black Irish Texan', wouldn't be here without your help, Pard! And, for those who don't' know, she's done all that and much, much more this fall and winter, by email, from the 'other side of the Pond', as those Brits, like Barb T like to say!

Oh, and in case you haven't guessed it, these 'tales' wouldn't exist in any form without the wondrous inspiration of the following amazingly gifted, and tremendously generous people: Barbara Stanwyck, John McIntire, Spring Byington, Hoagy Carmichael, Frank McGrath, Terry Wilson, Denny Miller, Michael Burns, Robert Fuller, and John Smith. My constant gratitude to them will hopefully be apparent in the following pages.

Disclaimer : None of the onscreen characters from Revue/Universal's 'Laramie' or 'Wagon Train' belong to me. And I'm prett nigh onta busted up about that, too. Instead they all belong to the creative minds, and the estates of the late John Champion and Howard Christie, and all the gifted writers, directors, producers, and actors of those two classic, classy Westerns. Sigh. No copyright infringement or profit taking is intended by this work of fiction, so don't sue me please, the studio/company, etc attorneys have 'many, many things' better to do.

Roniyah Gabrielle Caitrin Bhaer Winter-Spring , 2007-08

PROLOGUE:

Eugenie Pascale's Wyoming mansion, near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory the 1870s

''I told you, Eugenie, all is in readiness, just as we've discussed, to the nth degree, for the next sortie as regards our endeavors.'' Lee Henry Morrissey repeated, a third or fourth time, he was rapidly losing count, and losing patience.

'' The final sortie, as regards our grand endeavors, Lee Henry.'' she corrected him, but in an absent, distracted tone, which only served to annoy her twin brother all the more. She was far more intent right now on the two figures/spirits who haunted her more and more of late: The gallant warrior-husband she'd adored and the brilliant younger brother she'd all but raised herself when Isabelle Mariamne Danvers Morrissey died. Eugenie Pascale's bereavement was something she wore almost as a badge of honor, although she'd ceased wearing deep mourning nearly a year ago now.

''Napier and Neddy don't care to see me in my 'widow's weeds' any longer.'' she informed her brother and anyone else who'd listen. 'They much prefer I celebrate their heroism, and their lives by rejoining the world, harsh as it may be. And they greatly prefer I don my own favorite silks in mauve and lilac and silver-grey. Napier says those colors wash my face with a fine, rosy cast, And Neddy says they play up my eyes to a fine advantage. Neddy, dearest boy, you should be saying that sort of thing to some sweet, innocent, gently bred young ladies, not to your fond, foolish 'genie, now.

'' Isn't that what I said? Didn't I say, our final sortie, our grand endeavors?'' Morrissey asked, now, slumping into a chair by her tea-table, immensely weary from almost a fortnight's travel. In his estimation, over the past three years, he'd traversed enough miles to take him around the world at least twice. And in most instances, it was for no purpose remotely as pleasant as sight-seeing.

'' Lee Henry, you sound awfully tired out. '' Eugenie Pascale noted, finally looking at him. '' And you look almost worn to a nub, Twin. I don't know, I truly don't know why you insist on exerting yourself to this extent. Surely our people could take on the more arduous tasks, surely that's what they're meant, and what they wish to do.''

Suddenly, it was on the tip of Morrissey's tongue to lambaste the woman right out of her pleasant, flatteringly colored fantasies! No one in the living world could make him as angry as Eugenie, and no one understood him half so well.

W_hen she understands anything, he thought. Sometimes, nowadays, just lately, in fact, her mind, that was bright and sharp and clear as a cut lead crystal chandelier, is dimming, and flickering like a nearly burnt out candle, like a lantern, running out of oil. And seeing her, hearing her like this, is very nearly enough to make me as mad as 'genie!_

Swallowing his anger, Lee Henry Richard Morrissey, named for the Revolutionary War hero, took another moment to regain the calm demeanor she preferred. ''Dear Twin, what I exert myself to do involves matters I would never entrust to menials, to servants.'' He then told her.

'' For example, sister, do you imagine I should let 'our people' make contact with those persons whose services we may require for this final sortie? Would you deem it wise, then, to place into a servant's hands, the records used in our grand endeavors? Or perhaps you think I should have your Jaimey and your Phillips take on the maintenance of discipline and morale within the Company?''

''Oh, no, no, I take your point, brother. Our dear Solomon wouldn't fancy that arrangement one tiny bit, now would he? '' Eugenie answered, nodding. ''And I believe somehow, I do provoke him, as it is, from time to time. Still, his devotion to Napier remains unwavering. And Napier would take it very badly, if I let Solomon go.''

'' Yes, certainly he would, 'genie.'' Morrissey sighed. For just one half of one moment, she sounded rational, aware, and in the present. And then she drifted off, again. More and more she remained within a happy, antebellum dream world, or wholly caught up in the nightmare years of the Conflict. The former, he could hardly blame her for wishing back again, where the latter only showed the ruin of her mind. And as mad as she was, as sickened by many of their endeavors as he was, Morrissey could not of his nature, truly gainsay her now.

'genie, genie, leave those scraps and tatters for just a moment, won't you, Twin?'' Morrissey said, crossing to his sister, pulling her gently away from her pastime of piecing mementos in a keepsake book.

''Why, surely, Lee Henry. Whatever did you wish, Twin?''

[ _I wish to cease wading up to my kneecaps in blood and hatred, in vengeance and in horror, after three years of it, 'genie_] her brother thought of saying. But he didn't.

'' I wish you to go for a ride with me, 'genie, this evening, when it's cooler and, watch the sunset together. And 'genie, I heartily wish we could do that, could go riding, without the accompaniment of Jaimey and Phillips, or any others. Surely you and I need neither chaperones nor bodyguards in each other's company. Grant me my few, simple wishes, won't you, sister?''

''Why, why, surely, Lee Henry, surely. You talk as if I were a Fairy G-dmother. And I think I rather like it! You are the dearest brother, to think of a treat like that, and then ask me so prettily! '' Eugenie beamed at him, like a schoolgirl, and then grew pensive. '' You have something you wish to discuss with me in private, Lee Henry, don't you?''

''Several things, 'genie, yes, I do. And none of them would be the better for an audience. So, I thank you, Twin, I truly do. I miss you, greatly sometimes, 'genie.'' [ I miss the fiery, funny, genuinely loving open-hearted girl you were, so long ago. I miss her terribly, surely as much or more than 'genie claims, these days, to miss 'our dearest Neddy'! ]

Abruptly now, Eugenie looked up at him, and smiled as if they shared a secret.

'' You're thinking of our Neddy, aren't you Lee Henry?'' she asked, and it didn't surprise him. All their lives they'd had a way of knowing each other's thoughts.

" And how kind of you! You're thinking his poor feelings might be badly hurt if we don't take him riding with us. Well, never you mind, I told Neddy I would only permit him to exercise in the cool of the morning. When he does otherwise, it quite enervates him, and he knows that. And he knows I shall be altogether unforgiving, if he does not comply with my wishes. I shan't sit with him at dinner or at supper for a fortnight. I shan't dance with him for a good two months! And I shall not … well, perhaps I will still allow Neddy to come read to me, of an evening. He reads Mr. Shakespeare's poetry so very nicely, really, like a true gently bred, well learned Southron gentleman must do.''

''When you and I were young, sister, we'd read poetry together, for parties and tableaux.'' Morrissey reminded her. The bleak, bereft, bitter envy that still rose in him, over of her obsession with 'our Neddy', was back again, eating at him.

''And it was very pleasant. I always thought we did it well. We were very nearly inseparable, in those old days, Twin. And even when you wed Napier, I felt our bond would never break.''

''My, my, you are in a gloomy, pensive mood, aren't you?'' Eugenie asked, and nearly broke his heart in the next instant, reaching up to smooth back his hair, and gently touch his face, as she'd been wont to do, in years past.

'' Yes, I suppose I am. And I'm… travel weary. I'll leave you, sister, with your kind permission, to get cleaned up and rest a bit, before supper. '' He said and turned to leave her room.

'' Lee Henry, wait, please, wait a moment. '' she asked, so softly he almost didn't hear. ''You did say all is in readiness, did you not, for our final sortie?''

'' Yes, 'genie.'' Morrissey nodded. '' Every person, every preparation, and every precaution is in place, now. There will be no mistaken identification, not this time. There will be no mistake of any kind, insofar as I can prevent it. And then, the thing will finally be over!'' he finished, more fervently than he'd meant to.

Eugenie had turned back to leaf through her piece-work. Now she turned to face him, and Morrissey knew he'd awoken the lioness again. Her eyes were wide and dark as moonlit pools, her whole affect was taut, was tense. Her features had become a mask of ice, hiding once more the girl he'd known, and mourned.

''Why, brother-mine, do you without prior notice evince so much relief, regarding the end point of all our grand endeavors?'' she asked but didn't give time for his answer. ''Why are you abruptly so desirous of 'the thing being over'? And why do I suddenly sense an inconceivable reluctance in you, for the very thing I have sought, and worked, planned and sacrificed to achieve?''

''Sacrificed, 'genie, you've sacrificed?'' Morrissey echoed, his own temper at last slipping its bonds. ''You've worked, you've sought? I'll grant you, Twin, you certainly did plan all of this. And then you came to me, sister-mine. Three years after our poor brother died in the French…''

'' YOU DO NOT DARE! YOU CANNOT CONCEIVABLY DARE! YOU DAST NOT SAY THAT IN MY PRESENCE! YOU WILL NOT SAY THAT IN OUR NEDDY'S HEARING EVER! NOT EVER, DO YOU HEAR ME? '' Pascale screamed, and Morrissey flinched at the sound, reminded of the shrieks she'd uttered on hearing 'her Neddy' was found dead in New Orleans' infamous French Quarter, barely two years after the Conflict's end. Her descent into genuine madness, Morrissey knew, started then.

He'd taken that 'journey' himself, the Louisianan knew, at much the same time, on learning his oldest son Daniel Eamon was in fact among the Confederate prisoners who died at the Union's Elmira prison camp. He'd sought not vengeance, nothing that exact, but retribution in full, from any source that came to his hands. He'd taken beaten, embittered men like Solomon Howell, left from Napier Pascale's old command, as part of the 9th Louisiana Infantry, and to them added some wartime companions of his own lost sons, a hodgepodge from Texas, Tennessee, and Georgia regiments, and finally allowed some of those men's sons and younger brothers to 'sign on'.

And from them, even though Eugenie called them 'her' Company', Morrissey knew he'd made this guerilla-style command his own. Never at any time had his 'Company's roster held more than two thirds of the hundred the organization of the old, Regular Army, or any other formal armies required for a company. And worse, just as in the last months and weeks of the Conflict, it's numbers waxed and waned. At the outset, more than one hundred some former general officers, wild youths, crazed veterans and green boys made up the ranks. And even more than during the late Conflict, the temptations and the needs of families and homes elsewhere drew the 'boys' away.

More than that, Morrissey acknowledged, if only to himself, and only now, they'd all been worn out, fought out and burnt-out before they well began Eugenie Pascale's 'grand endeavors'. But they'd begun, he'd begun, glad at first, to have some _causus belli,_ some new reason to ride and fight and 'give some serious hurt back to some Yankees', when they could. They'd sought, they'd robbed and beaten, questioned, and tortured some 'enemies' and 'persons of interest.

And they'd killed along the way, driven by a common need to take the kicked, wounded, bleeding, and dying inside feeling of 'the '65' out of their own guts and make someone else feel it, too. Morrissey knew he'd done all these things more for his own reasons than any of Eugenie's. He'd wished for nothing more than retaliation and perhaps the quietus of his own death at some enemy's hand, while his own grief tore and raged within him, for three sons.

Daniel Eamon, aged 22 lay dead and buried in a frozen pit outside Elmira, New York , for Jeremy Beauvais, was 18 when he died at Chancellorsville, and Andrew Darcy, barely 16 when he died at Franklin. Now Morrissey knew it was only because of his youngest, Lee Edward Robert, the only child of his third marriage, that he'd come even halfway back on that nightmare path. Looking at and listening to Eugenie now, he also knew she'd never taken a single step back towards even the minimal sanity he seemed to have regained.

''I hear you, 'Eugenie. I hear you very well. And half the countryside around can hear you, just as clearly, Twin, when you forget yourself, that way. '' Morrissey answered, feeling wearier by the minute of the multiple pretenses she wanted, she insisted be kept up, constantly in her own and in 'Neddy's' presence.

''And you know better, or you should by this time, than to provoke my entirely righteous wrath to that extent, Twin.'' Pascale answered, her voice as icy now, as it had been fiery, the moment before. '' You seem to have lost your fervor for our great work, Lee Henry. You almost seem … although I frankly cannot credit this, ashamed of what we've done.

And I do not choose to credit such an idea. No, that can't be so. You were completely, you were utterly willing to take up these grand endeavors. You told me you more than understood what I sought for. You told me you knew I needed you as my Twin, my brother, but also as a soldier, a commander, to take the field and destroy in detail our most bitter, most treacherous foes!''

''Yes, so I did. And yes, in all honestly, Twin, I am ashamed, now. I've done things, and ordered things done no honorable soldier, and certainly no officer could conceivably, ever condone. I've ordered things done and done things no General Orders and nothing that can be found in the Rules of Engagement, or the Manual of Arms permits. I've made 'war', for the sake of 'your Neddy,' for the sake of your vengeance, 'genie, on women and children and elders, sister-mine.

I've become a bloody-handed, bloody-minded brigand, and all the while reasoned with myself it was for our family, for our honor, for those we can never, never hold again, except within our hearts. But it was not that, it was never that, 'genie! It was nothing but revenge and robbery and rampaging against innocents! AGAINST INNOCENTS, I SAY! I set my feet upon a path so steeped in blood and in disgrace it reeks to heaven, Twin! And you, 'genie', having never been a soldier, possibly still cannot understand what it means, when a soldier, when an officer finds he's broken every oath, and shattered every duty, except the final one, G-d willing he's given the time and the leisure for it, to fall upon his sword! ''

''Lee Henry Richard Morrissey , whatever can you be speaking of?'' his sister asked, her affect completely calm again, which change in her frightened him all the more. '' Are you practicing for some sort of dramatic exercise? Are you perhaps preparing to enact the part of Brutus, having lost all… having given all, and having done all the worst things for all the best possible reasons… ''

''I never quite managed to assassinate the tyrant, no, 'genie.'' Morrissey answered, numbly. ''Mr. Booth had that 'honor' and the bloody, appalling consequences thereof, I believe. But what I have done, for what I told myself, over and over, and yet over again these three years now, was to madly chase after your damned, damnable vengeance, Twin! And in all that time, while I and numerous others sought to carry out your grand endeavors, your mad endeavors, would be a better way to put it, I came within striking distance, more than once, sister, of losing my only remaining child! My son, My Neddy is nearly eighteen, 'genie'

And while I did your bidding, while I sought your vengeance for you, Twin, he's lived with murderers and madmen, reprobates and villains, learning to admire and emulate the worst, the very worst among them! You're the boy's aunt, Eugenie! And he adores you! But have you spared a moment for your brother's son, while your brother was away on your bloody business? Have you talked with him, have you looked for him amongst the Company? Would you so much as recognize the boy if he stood here between us?''

'' You never should have called the child Neddy, brother.'' Pascale answered. ''You should not have! Was that thoughtful, Twin, was that considerate of you? Had you nothing in mind when he was born except to stab me with the bitterest lies told of me in my entire life? Have I seen or talked to or sought to find your Neddy, brother? No, indeed I have not! I cannot bear to look upon him!''

''Because he's not your Neddy, Twin? Because I named him with no meaning other than to honor our late brother? No, then perhaps, because

the differences between the two are as night and day? Is that why you so despise my son? Or is it because our dearest Napier never deigned to stay home long enough to create an heir?''

Now she strode across the room to him, very much like a lioness on the hunt, he thought. Raising her arm, she made as if to strike her twin. Raising his own, he grasped her hand, denying her the pleasure. ''You are despicable! You are contemptible! You are…'' she hissed, trying to pull away. She couldn't.

''I am your twin, 'genie.'' Morrissey almost chuckled. '' So we're not that much different, not you and I. And being that much alike you already know I will never be dissuaded from reaching my goals. Do you have any idea how very simple, how very common and conventional my goals are? I want my sole, surviving son as far away from here, from you and from the Company as it's possible to send him. I want his livelihood safeguarded, as well as his life. And I want no interference, none of any kind, ever with his inheritance.

And, actually, sister, all these are things, I've already accomplished. Neddy is gone, Twin. He's nowhere you will ever find him. And for the last, which I know may somewhat disappoint you, Neddy's inheritance is completely out of my hands, and even farther out of yours. You'll recall the bequests our late father made as regards any and all of our progeny?

I thought so, it's likely another reason you hate my son. Well, drawing from that, trusts have been created, blind trusts for the most part, to which neither you nor I will have access. In fact, Eugenie, starting now, you will never have an instant's access to Neddy's person, to his schooling, to his trusts or to his future. Moreover, if you in any way, ever attempt to harm the least hair on my only son's head, I will see you in prison, or I will see you dead, my dearest Twin.''

''And I'll see you in hell!' ' she cried out, backing away.

''That's as may be. I don't really have much interest in an afterlife. Well, come, Eugenie, aren't you going to ask me what I will do, what I have done, in exchange for Neddy's safety?''' Lee Henry asked her, releasing his hold on the madwoman.

' What, then? 'Do you propose to become a hostage for my good behavior, Lee Henry?'' she laughed, a touch hysterical.

''No, I propose to go on, as I have for three years now, shielding you legally. I propose to ensure there is not one scintilla of evidence, linking you to the Company and it's various sorties. And I propose to keep you from making those first two impossible. In other words, dearest Twin, you will stay here while the final sortie of your grand endeavors is taken to its' conclusion. This last 'endeavor', if you are to remain 'above the fray' and off of a gallows, will remain in my hands and in my hands alone.'' Morrissey finished and gave her a taut smile.

''Have you gone stark, raving mad, now, brother-mine?'' Pascale shrieked.

''It's entirely possible I have, sister-mine.'' Morrissey nodded, knowing his calm affect infuriated her. '' I can't say I'd be surprised to find I have lost my wits entirely by this time.''

''Well, Twin, let me assure you, you have!'' Pascale scowled. '' I'm to stay here? I'm to wait here like some medieval countess or duchess while you keep me legally sheltered? I'm to take no active part in the culmination, as you said yourself of three years toil? Well, you are patently insane, you are mad, sir! I will not be denied the final sortie! I will not suddenly turn into a biddable, brainless, female, brother. And I will never be cheated of my Neddy's revenge!

You, you say you christened your youngest in that way to honor my Neddy? No! You have no shred of honor in your entire person! Worse, you have no respect for our Glorious Dead! And worse still, you have no concept, it now appears, of righteous retribution, in a case where your own brother, your own flesh and blood cries out from his grave for true vengeance, true justice at last! Well, sir, I hereby disown you entirely!

You may leave my home and my Company, forthwith! I have no need in either one for traitors or sentimental cowards, ever. Your Neddy, your only surviving son, you say, your sudden descent into some nightmare involving your paternity would be comical, brother if it were not so complete a fraud! I care not where your whelp' s gone off to, brother. I care not one whit where either of you go! But be assured, I will be riding westward come morning. Be assured I will avenge my brother, my Neddy, on the man who demonstrably caused his untimely death! ''

''genie', you read Neddy's journals as many times as I, perhaps more often.'' Morrissey said, as quietly as she was loud, when she stopped railing.

'' And having read his own words, you know it was the drugs he was given for his pain and anguish, and those drugs alone that killed Neddy, And in this we agree,he was lost long before his time. And when you are calm and reasonable, Eugenie, you know this as well as I, it was the Conflict that took our younger brother, as it took three of my four fine, strong, gallant, exceptional sons, Daniel Eamon, Jeremy Beauvais and Andrew Darcy, as it took so many others. The only difference was, we thought to have Neddy home, safe and sound, once he got out of hospital.

But he was never again safe or sound. And we have, or more precisely I have, Twin, waded in blood to the tops of my lower extremities, waded in blood and madness these past three years, sister-mine to learn for you what you demanded to know. I have the blood of nearly thirty young men and women, and some elders, Eugenie, on my hands, because you had to know who took Neddy to that hospital, probably thinking to save his life. ''

'' NO! NO! '' she screamed. '' No one in their right mind would think such a place had any such capacity! No, Neddy, my Neddy, was carted into that damnable place, that so-called hospital in Atlanta, and abandoned there, Lee Henry! He was taken into that nightmarish place! Neddy was too ill. He was given no choice by his so called comrades! And he was subjected to terrible things, all in the name of getting him well!

We knew better, we knew how many boys died in those awful places! '' Pascale shouted, past weeping, past anything but raging.

''Neddy was to come home to us, not to go anywhere near those pestholes. He was to come home! But for reasons I've never comprehended our Neddy's comrades in arms gave our boy not into the welcoming arms of his family, but into the bloodied hands of strangers! And knowing all that and what transpired afterwards, you still would deny me and thus deny Neddy and our family, our just recompense? Well, Twin, you should truly know me and know me far, far better than that!

I will ride from Cheyenne, tomorrow. I will learn, brother-mine if you actually have made the preparations you claim. And I will exact revenge on the man who ensured how and where my Neddy would die! I will repay with interest the man you failed to find or to bring to my hand. And when I have done, that man, that Jess Harper will understand fully, in his own person, and in the minutest detail what he did to my Neddy. And then, my dearest, most cherished Neddy will, finally, know honor and peace. ''


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

Sherman Ranch/Stage Station 12 miles outside Laramie, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

Jess Harper was awake and out of the ranch house again, early, setting about the everyday round of ranch chores. Truth be told he hadn't slept

that well, so there seemed no use laying there counting the chinks in the bunkhouse wall, or the pinholes last winter's hailstorm put in its roof, either. Truth be told, Jess hadn't slept at all, and not because those chinks or those pinholes particularly worried him. Nope, that wasn't what kept his eyes wide open and his whole frame tense, through yet another night.

And he hadn't bothered to explain, to Slim Sherman, who didn't ask, or to Daisy Cooper, who did , except to say the mattress on his bed was 'hittin' me wrong', why he'd 'slept' in the bunkhouse. Mike Williams, whose curiosity was always higherand more persistent than Daisy's or Slim's, was off on a fishing expedition with schoolmates. And although he missed the tyke, Jess was glad he didn't have to answer, or to dodge the little boy's questions.

That would take too much explaining of too many things Jess reckoned Mike didn't need to be saddled with. The orphaned boy had enough to deal with, surely, just finding his way with a whole, new family, new schoolmates and lessons. Being orphaned suddenly as youngsters, was something Jess let Mike to know they had in common. The circumstances of a single, horrific, fiery night on the Texas Panhandle years ago, though, when Jess was orphaned, weren't anything Jess cared to add to the little boy's load.

[ _No, after all he's already come through, I'm not about to add my old nightmares to the ones Mike's still sometimes havin'. This is one little boy who's going to have the rest of his childhood, if Slim and Daisy and me have anything to say about it_! ] Jess determined as he worked with the horses first, then their stalls and then their tack. [ _And what would I tell him, anyhow? 'Mike, don't take this the wrong way, okay, Tiger? But in some ways, you're a lot like the little brother, my youngest brother, little Alec, who we… lost, in Texas, what seems like a million years ago now, sometimes, and sometimes like just yesterday, or truth to tell, like just last night!_ ]

And that, right there, was the exact reason Jess had been awake more than he'd been asleep for a lot of nights, lately. His oldest nightmares, the ones that never really left his mind, and likely never would , were coming back in force, these days, these nights. And the Texan shook his head, this morning, thinking he almost could have predicted they'd ride his way again, with a clear, sweet Wyoming spring moving lazily towards summer.

So many things were in place, just now to set them off like artillery shells burning across the sky, like some kind of dreadful fireworks. It was the 'right' time of year for one, the time of year when disaster struck like sheet lightning on the tiny Harper spread. And it was a quiet time on the Sherman ranch, except for couple or three mares about to foal, and the increase they expected in stage runs, with the better weather. Then came word from an old friend, Jemmy Singer, who likely wanted to mend fences, ones that Jess wasn't sure he wanted mended. And as if to top things off, there was the letter, the joyful letter from Francie, out in California, saying she and Ben were 'expecting'.

' And I feel so wonderful, and I feel a little scared, sometimes, too. And I wish to G-d, I could talk to momma or Aunt Beth about this! And I don't honestly know whether to laugh or cry, Jess.' Francie wrote. ' Some days, lately, I'm near to doing both at once. And I'd really love for you to come out, when the baby comes. That won't be till the fall, though. I'd really love for you to stand up for her or for him too. So please think about doing that, won't you, Jess? And please, please let me know what you think, what you think about what we should name this little one. I know if she's a girl, she'll just have to be either Jenny for momma, or Beth for Aunt Beth, or some combination of the two, to please them both.

But if we have a son, Jess, I'm so torn… Should I name him Francis Marion, or Benjamin Franklin, for Daddy or for my Ben? Or should I name him, for one of the boys, or some combination of their names? I already know you won't tolerate the notion of him being named Jess, so don't waste your breath protesting. I won't do that, little brother, probably.

I do have the strongest feeling this child will be a boy, though. And I could name him Nathaniel for Granddaddy Nate, or Cooper for our Cousin, or Harper, for our whole side of the family ….Please let me know what you think. ' Jess read the letter, that had come a week ago or so, over again. It was already getting worn, where he'd folded and unfolded, creased and uncreased, read and reread it, and tucked it away again. He'd just about memorized it, too, thinking happily at first, and with some confusion, about being an actual, blood-kin uncle, about maybe being a g-dfather! But he hadn't answered it, yet.

[ _Now, hold it! You can't blame Francie, or her letter for these danged nightmares! G-d knows, she likely has some of her own, still, from that time._ ] the Texan chided himself. [ _You're just giving yourself too much time to think, these days, is all. And G-d knows, that never bought you anything but trouble! Work, that's what you need, hard, regular, needful and especially, exhausting work and lots of it, and then, maybe, just maybe a good long tramp or a ride or a night or two back in the Big Open… will clear these cobwebs out! If the stage schedule doesn't pick up too soon, you could mebbee even drag that big, overworked, over worryin' Pard of yours out there, with you. Sure, Daisy'd probably love to have the place to herself a day or two, or to herself and Mike…Surely!_ ]

''Are you planning on rubbing the leather right off that harness, Pard?'' Slim chuckled, walking up to where Jess sat frowning and muttering over a set of leads.

''Dang it, Slim!'' the Texan jumped up, and whirled around, giving his partner the surprised reaction he wanted, and not the amused one he'd really had, as Slim soft-footed it, and pretty well for a fellow over six feet tall, into the tack room.'' Don't you know better yet, than to come up behind a fella that way, Pard?''

'' Well, no, I suppose not, not when your gunbelt and your rifle are where you left them a couple days ago, right by the front door.'' Slim said, grinning as wide as the Medicine Bow.

''And you don't happen to notice I've still got both my fists right where they should be, and more n' likely a boot knife, at the ready, to take real good care of sneaks with?'' Jess demanded, shaking his head at the tall blond rancher.

'' I'll try to be more careful, then, next time I'm coming out to find out why my Pard is up earlier than the cows, again, today, and why he's been less sociable than a porcupine, and less talkative than a fencepost, just lately. But I'm here, now, Jess, so, what about it? What's going on with you the past week or so?'' Slim asked, and, just as Jess hoped he wouldn't, took an unyielding stance in the doorway.

''You know, time was, I thought Andy was the too-danged-all-fired-curious one in the family.'' Jess dodged.

'' And now?'' Slim prodded.

''Now I see where he learned it!'' The Texan complained.

''He learned it from Ma, and so did I, truth to tell. But she thought it was a good thing, being curious, at least about the people you happen to give a flying fig about, anyway. And I still want to know what's bothering you, Jess. Is it something to do with the two letters you got last week?'' Slim asked, no more giving ground than he knew Jess would, in his place.

'' What letters?'' Jess demanded, frowning tautly. [ _I already made up my mind, 'm not gonna to talk about what's botherin' me, Pard, so just give it up! _] '' What makes you think I got any letters?''

'' Well, nothing, except I saw them, Jess. I saw two letters, one from California, and one from Fort Kearney, back in Nebraska. They came in the same post that I got a letter from Andy. And you saw that one, and haven't even asked what he has to say for himself, lately.''

'' Reckon I knew you'd tell me… Andy's alright, isn't he, Slim?'' Jess asked, knowing he was setting foot on exactly the trail he most wanted to keep both of them off, right now. '' Oh, Andy's fine. He's great. And he really likes St. Louis. That's almost all he writes about, these days. And how he wants to do even more traveling, when his school's out for the summer!'' Slim nodded, frowning in his turn. '' Never thought Andy'd turn out to be such a wanderer at heart. I suppose I really should have known, shouldn't I?''

'' Don't see how a fella can tell what his own brother's gonna grow into. You… stand too close, while you have the chance to, anyhow. And there's nothin' wrong with keepin' close that way, except when they go and blindside ya, by growin' and changin' and getting their own ideas, dang 'em!'' Jess chuckled. Maybe he could keep Slim talking about his letter, now, and dodge the whole, entire question of his own. Maybe he could get Slim off the subject of letters entirely. It was worth a shot.

''Andy is fine, and he's gonna stay that way, Slim.'' Jess went on, pulling back a grin of his own, before the rancher could see it. '' It ain't like he's getting ready to turn into a tumbleweed, like I done. He had a decent upbringin', after all. Despite whatever hand you might have had in it. And that's what matters most, I reckon.''

''Despite? Despite what … '' Slim echoed, trying to get angry, as his partner clearly hoped he would, and only finding himself laughing. '' Oh, that's funny, Pard, really funny!''

'' Well, you're laughin' ain't you?'' Jess asked, wondering if he should be making a strategic retreat, about now.

''Sure, I'm laughing! I'd be laughing at anyone who truly thought he could get my dander up that easy! So, was that one letter, the one from California, from Francie, Pard? And if so, are she and Ben alright, these days?'' Slim asked, going right back to the subject of letters, Jess noted, frowning.

'' It was, and I'd have told you by this time if they weren't. You can figure that much, can't you? Francie's… She says they're gonna have a baby. She wants me to come on out there, when the baby …gets here, in the autumn, she says.'' Jess told the rancher, wondering if maybe he could just leave it at that, for now.

'' A baby! Jess, that's terrific! That's great, Pard! You're going to be an uncle!'' Slim whooped, and enthusiastically clapped the Texan on his shoulder. ''That's wonderful news! Why on earth wouldn't you tell me and Daisy about this? Jess, Francie isn't ill, is she? She's not in any danger with being … expecting, is she?''

''Not from what she wrote, no. And reckon she'd tell me. I just … figure I was tryin' to get it into my own head, before I told you, Pard. She wants me to stand up for the baby, too.

And that… kinda threw me for a loop, there, I reckon.'' Jess hedged. He didn't' want to take this subject any further. And in fact, it hadn't occurred to him that Francie could have troubles having a baby now. That thought didn't help hold his nightmares back even a little bit.

''Guess it would me, too.'' Slim nodded. '' I don't know what I'd think if I had a sister.''

''Or if Andy came home, married, some day?'' Jess agreed.

'' Don't even think that, Pard. It makes me feel like I'm about a hundred! Oh, by the way, Daisy's likely to ask you about that second letter, the one that came from Nebraska, too, Jess. She said she found it crammed into the top bureau drawer in Mike's room, when she was looking for more of his socks to darn. And neither one of us could figure out how it got there. Do you know?''

''Nope.'' Jess lied, knowing that wasn't going to work, just using it to stall until he could think of something that would.

''All right, Jess. All right. But you already told me about Francie's letter, so why not tell me about this other? Who'd it come from? Who do you know who's stationed at Kearney?''

''Nobody.'' Jess tried dodging again. '' All the army types I know are either posted to Fort Laramie, or Fort Collins. I thought I told you that, Pard. So, how about we just drop that subject, all right, Slim?''

''Nope.'' Slim shook his head, making Jess frown with a better than fair impersonation of the Texan's taciturn manner.

''Well why in blue blazes won't you?'' Jess demanded.

''Because whatever it is about this letter and whatever else is eating you lately, Jess, has had you up and pacing, up and muttering, up and rattling around in the bunkhouse or up before first light for a week and more… And that's always meant some pretty serious trouble, as long as I've known you, Pard.

And you'd think exactly the same, from where I'm standing, you know that. You wouldn't just let it drop if it were me and my letter, Jess. So I can't either. So come on and tell me what's the matter. Who wrote you from Kearney? And why does a letter bother you so much you won't talk about it with your best friend and your partner, or with Daisy?''

Jess scowled at the tall young rancher. Slim knew good and well the Texan hated being prodded this way. So Slim was all too clearly 'reading' Jess' for all the signs and signals his friend was troubled. And he wasn't far wrong.

And that by itself, was more than enough to start Jess muttering again and pacing the dooryard, as if he were getting ready to survey it's width and depth and that wasn't going to work, either, Jess soon found out. After watching for a couple minutes, while Jess 'measured' the yard, Slim strode over to stop the younger man in mid-pace, certain sure, without even thinking it out, that the Texan would see it as a gesture of trust.

''Jess stop. Jess! Stop, and tell me what's wrong? What's got you walking a trench line into the middle of the yard?'' Slim asked, placing one strong hand on each of Jess' shoulders.

Jess looked up at the rancher, intently reading Slim's strong features for any sign of his wry humor. There wasn't any and the Texan frowned again, because that might have given him an 'easy out'. '

"' The second letter came from my cousin, Jemmy from Raleigh. '' Jess finally answered. '' And Jemmy's… always askin' th' near impossible, if not th' outright kind! He doesn't even get what can and what just can't be done! He doesn't have Th' word 'no' in his whole, entire …'' the Texan stopped and shook his head, looking to Slim as if he wasn't quite sure of the word he needed.

'' Vocabulary?'' The rancher offered.

'' Yeah, that's it, Jemmy doesn't have Th' word 'no' in his whole, entire danged pig-headed vocabulary! They don't call those North Carolina, those 'old North State' boys Tar-heels for nothin', y' know!''

'' So I've heard.'' Slim nodded. '' And this letter? What's he asking for now?''

'' Oh, that letter? You're gonna love this, Pard! Jemmy's askin me to traipse back to Nebraska to pull the kind of dumb prank we did when we were kids! Well, I sure as shootin' can't an' won't do that, now. I swear, Jemmy must think I'm still a kid! An' he's all of year older!

Last I heard from Jemmy, he'd somehow found out my Aunt Beth was ailin'. An' he sent a wire down to Nacogdoches to say he'd come as soon as he could. But, it turned out, he couldn't get away then. So he wired again after she passed on, sayin' how sorry he was and couldn't I come on up east for a spell?' Well that wasn't gonna happen, was it, not without me findin' the Lost Dutchman to make up my fare! '' the Texan exclaimed.

''Likely Jemmy figured that was the case, Pard. So, what's this?'' Slim asked.

'' This is a whole 'nother thing. Jemmy's up to some devilment or other, like always, I know it. And he wants me in on it, just like always. And whenever Jemmy got a mind to stir things up, it was nearly always me, always ol' Jess got his feet tangled in it! Well, I ain't fallin' for it, not this time!'' Jess declared.

''So, you're still angry, now, with your cousin for tricks he pulled when you both were boys? And that's why you're in the dumps just lately?'' Slim pressed, sure there was more to it, a lot more.

''You don't want to get into this, Pard.'' Jess insisted, his voice quiet and stern. '' You truly don't. ''

''Yes I do, Pard. So give over, Jess, just this once and talk to me about it.'' Slim answered just as quietly insistent.

''Slim, you … Dang it, Slim, how many times have we agreed, you an' me that there are some things we're better off not hashin' over? And how many times have we agreed that one of th' things at the very top of that list is the danged War? Well, that's what come between me and Jem, like a danged stone-topped redoubt! An' I ain't about to let it come up thataways between us!'' Jess shouted, ready and willing to shout his best friend's ears plumb off, about the War or almost anything, if that would keep any talk of his nightmares off their trail.

'' He fought for the North, then?'' Slim asked, wondering why Jess was taking off on this tangent.

'' Well, Jem's a Quaker, so no, he never really fought… But Jemmy went

up north with his Daddy, not long b'fore th' War began. And he asked back then, not to … No, no, th' boy insisted all that wasn't gonna change anything between us! An' like I said, that was just another good example of my cousin Jemmy askin' th' damned most impossible thing he could ever think of!

Jem went north with his Daddy, my Daddy's cousin Stephen… An' it was s'posed to be 'cause he could go to a good med school up in Frederick! Anyhow, that was folks outside th' close family were told! But it wasn't so. It wasn't a bit. Jemmy an' me, we'd been talkin' for more n' a year b'fore that, how we'd find us a sponsor, or a scholarship, or some other way… an' go out east together to th' Virginia Military Institute!

An' I guess his Daddy didn't' want Jemmy goin' there. Figure my Daddy might've said no, too…had he still … been there. An' thing of it was, Jemmy, if he'd only wanted to doctor, there were plenty of schools, plenty of other schools he could've gone to, that weren't up North! '' Jess finished, feeling very much like the sad and angry fourteen year old he'd been when his cousin left Texas for Maryland.

'' So what happened was that Jemmy and his father weren't on the side of the Confederacy? '' Slim asked, wishing he could hug the lonesome, self-loathing boy he saw so clearly within his friend, the way he would have hugged Andy once, the way he'd hug Mike, now. ''So they couldn't stay in Texas, or in North Carolina, not feeling that way, not with the war coming.

It couldn't have been easy, maybe not even that safe for them to make that choice, it seems to me. Was that it, Jess? They felt they had to leave, uproot themselves and go to Maryland?''

'' Well that's pretty clear, ain't it? He went to school in Frederick for most of a year, then he went into the Federal Medical Corps! An' he never had to! An' he knew that! Jemmy knew we wouldn't make him leave home, leave Th' family! So, you're wrong, Pard! Jemmy could've done his studyin' an' come on home again!

Other fellows did, other fellows at school up north, even West Pointers, even fellas in th' Old, th' Reg'lar Army, they came home to Texas, and Virginia, Tennessee, Alabama and Georgia, and just everywhere! But not Jemmy, no, he started his med school up there, an' then went to be a field doctor, Third Maryland Infantry, Army of the gol-danged Potomac! '' Jess fumed, his chin jutting, not wanting to recall, much less relive that time.

'' And from what you're telling me, Pard, you and Jemmy were good, close friends. So it was especially hard for you, Jess, when he made the choice he did. '' Slim suggested, swallowing a laugh at the Texan's turn of phrase.

'' It was danged hard.'' Jess nodded, then he sighed, calming down somewhat. '' Reckon it was hard on Jemmy, and on his Daddy. They were both born in Raleigh, lived there, and down in San Antonio, for most their lives.''

'' Reckon so.'' Slim agreed, then waited a beat and went on trying to make his point, the point he was sure Jess needed, even if he didn't' want to hear it, now. ''And you've known, and you've made friends with other men, since the War ended, men who fought for the North, haven't you, present company excluded?''

'' Present company included, yeah.'' Jess answered, once more eyeing the rancher keenly for any sign Slim was joking at him. Seeing none, Jess pushed his shoulders back and rested his hands on his hips, standing as close to 'at ease' as he came, these days. ''What of it?''

''This: your friend AND YOUR COUSIN Jemmy writes to you, sayin' there's something he could truly use your help with. But you're going to use the War, and the fact that when you were both still boys, Jemmy made a different choice from yours, to keep you from helping a friend? That's not the Jess Harper I know.'' Slim insisted, keeping his wide blue eyes focused on Jess' blue-sky gaze.

'' You know you say that, you say just that, Pard, everytime you want to turn me onto some whole, entire different trail altogether from th' one I'm on!'' the Texan protested, with less energy than he'd intended.

[ _Never mind you're right about those trails nigh onto more often than you're wrong! Well, you ain't gonna hear me sayin' that, Pard, not while you're in the midst of tryin' to prove you're right again_.]

'' Yeah, I suppose I do, Pard. And I'm saying it again. I'm saying it because I know certain sure, you'd do the same for me, if I was too angry, too hurt, or just too blamed impatient, to see the landslides, the wildcats, or the rattlers on that trail. '' Slim answered, and one more time, stepped in the Texan's direct path.

[ _In fact, you've been known to knock me flat on my stubborn Yankee backside with one of your haymakers, when you thought I was taking the wrong trail, Jess. But I'm not going to bring that up, just now, Pard. I'd rather not put any such idea in your head._ ]

Jess stopped, seeing the choice was between that and trying to walk through the rancher, and he sighed. '' You are one helluva stubborn damn Yankee, y' know?''

'' Yeah, I know. And I know you're trying now, just like you've tried more than once to out-stubborn me, Jess. And it's never once worked. Not when you knew from the get-go I was right. And this time I am, and you already have that figured.'' Slim insisted, staying right where he stood. Then something else Jess said came back to him. '' Jess, didn't you say Jemmy's

a doctor?'' Slim asked, stepping in front of Jess.

'' I did. Sure. Why'd you ask?'' Jess nodded, stepping to one side.

'' Well, I just wondered, are you sure this is just some kind of trick, some kind of prank he's talking about, here? '' Slim went on, once more taking his place directly in Jess' path.

'' That's' where you never meetin' ol Jemmy doesn't help you out none,

Pard. He's got a devilish sense of humor on him, that boy. And he likes real complicated kinds of jokes, practical jokes, y' know? So when Jemmy says he wants a trick pulled, it's just as likely he's pullin' one himself, already. Only, you've got to walk into a spring trap, don' t you, b'fore you can ever find yourself hangin' upside down from a danged tree?'' Jess asked, taking a step to the other side of his partner's large frame.

'' That's what I'd think. But I still don't get why this is making you angry, Jess. You could just shoot back a wire, or a letter and tell your cousin you're not into practical jokes, these days. '' Slim suggested, once more stepping in front of the Texan.

'' Oh, that's just what I'm aimin' to do. Its just Th' boy's still got the nerve of … I don't know what! He's tryin' to bait me into goin', and I can tell that from here. And that's what's got me so hot under Th' collar again!

Jemmy's tryin' to play a family-card, of all things with me! And I'm not fallin' for it, nope, no sir..'' Jess answered, frowning, and stepping away from Slim, again.

''Oh, okay. So you figure Jemmy wouldn't write to you, that he wouldn't suggest something so likely to make you angry, just because he wants to see you again, Jess?'' Slim asked, relenting on his maneuvers, for the moment, to keep from becoming too obvious.

'' Oh, Jemmy wants to see me again, certain sure! He wants to see me make a plain fool of myself on one of his real funny double-dealins!'' Jess insisted, folding his arms across his chest, the letter balled in his right fist.

'' Sounds like a real fun kind of guy.'' Slim offered, keeping his tone completely sympathetic.

'' Yeah, well, we had some fun, I reckon, down around Nacogdoches, when we were kids. But that was … sometimes I think that was a few hundred years ago. And I … it's not like I hate Th' boy, you know. But Jemmy's askin'…''

'' too much, after so much time, so much water's gone under the bridge?'' Slim asked, thinking what he'd give to talk to family he'd lost, just once more. Now, again, he stepped directly in front of Jess, waiting for his answer.

'' You got that right.'' Jess frowned, not looking a bit happy with his answer, or Slim's movement.

'' Well, I think I do understand what you're saying, Jess. But you may not like what I think you should do about it.'' Slim said, immediately getting the reaction he expected, and an amazed glare from his partner.

'' You, you don't think I should go, ride all the way to Kearny, only to find Jemmy's pullin' my leg, and anything else he can reach?'' Jess demanded, still staring at the rancher.

''Yeah, I do. I do think you should go see your cousin, who's willing, as far as I can tell from what you say, and without meeting the fellow, to get you this hot under the collar, to get together, to see you again, after all this time.'' Slim nodded, staying in place, as long as Jess did.

'' Well, I don't!'' Jess exclaimed. '' Why Th' devil would you?'' Jess remained standing where he was, staring at the rancher.

'' Because he's your family, Jess.'' Slim answered, crossing his arms across his chest.

''Well I ain't goin'. Jemmy wants to play kids games that much, he can ride on up here!'' Jess asserted, both hands on his hips, just before he turned to sidestep Slim again.

'' Jess, wait a minute and just listen to me.'' Slim insisted, just barely taking hold of Jess' shirt sleeve. ''Listen for second, will you? I think I have an insight here you could be missing. The man's our age, and you tell me yourself, he came through the War just as we did. And by that I mean that he lost friends and family on both sides, too. And I have a feeling about this, a feeling that this cousin of yours, is covering what he actually wants, by saying he's just got it in his mind to get together and play kids' tricks.''

''Yeah, Pard?'' Jess asked, starting to, and then stopping himself from pulling away from the tall young rancher. ''Well, what in tarnation makes you think that?''

''Just what's happened to me, that's all, Pard. Every time, every single time I've run into fellows I fought with, and fellows I knew before that, who went to other units or other commands, or even fought for the South, none of us ever ran up to the others and clapped them on the backs, or hugged the stuffing out of them, or even said they'd been missed. But it was plain as daylight that was exactly what we wanted to do. Because we came back

from it, alive, and so did they, when so many other fellows never did and never will.''

''Slim, like I said to start, it ain't such a great idea for the two of us to get talkin' about th' War.'' And you've said as much yourself, before now.''' Jess answered firmly, shaking his head and slipping the rancher's grasp without much effort. '

''Yeah, I did say that. And I was wrong. Because it's a fact of our lives, Jess, a core fact. And you know as well as I, one way or another, it's always going be there, in our minds, in our memories, in our hearts, no matter what. It's there, Jess, like one of those mountains that can't and never should be turned into molehills, no matter what anyone says. You can't make it go away, I can't make it go away. It happened, and to all of us.

But I can do my level best to keep it from coming, much less staying between me and my best friend, my partner, a man I've come to think of as my brother. And if you see it that way, which I think certain sure you do, then we both lost an awful lot of brothers, in the War, Jess. Six hundred thousand, and more. And I don't think either one of us really believes that our brothers, the ones who came back alive, want anything less, or anything more than to run up and clap us on our backs, and hug the stuffing right out of us, because they still can.'' Slim asserted, more and surer of his take on the matter.

''And you think we should, I should let 'em do just that?'' the Texan asked, not wanting to accept the idea, not just yet, anyway.

'' I surely do.'' Slim said, so quietly and somberly that Jess couldn't doubt him.

'' All of 'em, no matter where they were, who they fought with?'' Jess challenged his partner, but with less conviction this time.

'' All of them, Jess. Every last one.'' Slim nodded.

'' Even the ones you still think were dead wrong to fight where they did? '' Jess argued, trying to get out of this talk through another argument.

'' I think that quarrel got settled, in '65.'' Slim said, wondering how angry that would make the Texan, knowing he couldn't in honesty take it back.

'' Oh if that' ain't a damn Yankee's answer to the whole shootin' match!'' Jess growled, still wanting to stop talking about the letter, or his cousin from Raleigh.

'' I've been called a lot worse than 'damn Yankee', before now, Pard. Nice try, though.'' Slim almost laughed, reading Jess clear as day.

'' You're pushin' this boulder up the wrongest hill you could ever likely find, Pard. So just stop it now, Stop.'' Jess frowned, but his blue-sky eyes had more dread in them than anger, now.

'' No. I can't. You're my partner, my best friend, and my brother, Jess. And when I see my brother heading onto trail as likely as this one is to cut him off from all the kin he has left in the world, when I know that being cut off is what's hurt him more than anything, I have to get in his way. I have to get in your way.'' Slim said, and did just that.

''But you're not blockin' where I want to go, damn it, Slim! You're pushin' me in th'whole, entire other direction, now!'' Jess shouted, frowning as he finally saw how the rancher was stepping directly in his path all the while they talked.

''And since I know exactly how fond you are of being pushed, Pard, do you think I'd do it, just for the fun of letting you take my head off by the ears?'' Slim asked, holding onto his own temper, sure that Jess still wanted to provoke it, and him.

'' I don't want to talk about Th' War, Pard. And I ain't goin' to see Jemmy. He's just gonna have do without. Lots of us already have done.'' Jess insisted, turning his back to his partner, feeling like a willful child getting a scolding.

'' But Jemmy and you aren't just cousins, Jess. Didn't you say that? Didn't you say you're friends, good friends?'' Slim asked, deliberately reaching for Jess right shoulder, pulling the Texan around to face him again.

'' We were, why'd you ask?'' Jess nodded, and stayed turned around, wondering how he could have forgotten even for a moment how stubborn the rancher could be.

'' Because, Jess, I can hardly believe my ears! You'd walk through fire for a friend! And a lot of the friends you've walked through fire for, either didn't deserve it to begin with, or never even bothered to look and see if you got singed. And because I feel as though I've got a pretty good idea what family means to you.

I was around when you were told Francie had died, and I was around when you found out that was a damn lie, too. Pard, it was the difference between night and day! Now you tell me that's not so, Jess. C'mon, let me see you look me in the eye right now, this minute, and say that's not Th' G-d's honest truth!'' Slim insisted, hunkering down just far enough to make sure he was eye to eye with Jess now.

''Damn it, the difference is night an' day! And you don't know this part of it, Pard, so don't be surprised when you don't like hearin it! Francie is the one who got left behind, and by me! I ran off to get into th' shootin' War th' first chance I got that spring of '61! I ran away from Nacogdoches and Granpa Nate's house and Aunt Beth AND FROM MY BROTHER AND SISTER!

I ran off to th' War an never thought what could've happened with her, or Danny, never thought what might happen to them whilst I was gone! I ran off to 'see th' Elephant, to shoot me some Yankees, to come home again, so I thought, cos it was what we all of us boys thought that spring, COVERED IN GLORY! AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT TRULY ENDED, NOW DON'T WE?'' Jess hollered, knowing he'd finally set foot firmly where he didn't want Slim or this conversation to go a bit!

''And come that spring of the '65, I come on back to east Texas, I come askin' at Aunt Beth's an they didn't know where Francie was, nor how she was, nor Danny, neither. Cos Francie, she'd heard nothin' from me for more n' two years by then, and she'd run off. And Danny, if he could have, he would've run off right after her, cos she was th' one who stood by him, not me! But Francie, she went where she felt safe, where she felt cared about, is all! And it's no secret now how that could've ended for her!

And if she was wrong about that, well, it wasn't as if she still had Daddy or momma there to set her straight anymore! An' she dint have me, either! Now d' you think you can truly figure, Pard, how it was to know I'd so much let down th' closest family I had left, both of them? D' you b'lieve you can get what that could be like, layered on top of comin' home after ol' Bobbie Lee, ol' Joe Johnston an' even Bedford Forrest went ahead an' surrendered?

We fought tooth an' nail, tooth an' nail, an' never wanted to give a single danged inch of ground, from Pittsburgh Landing clear to Goldsboro, North Carolina, with stops on th' way like Chickamauga, Seminary Ridge, an' Atlanta! An' then we come home an' home plumb wasn't there anymore!

It was as dead an' gone as all those boys we'd left behind us! We all run off to th' damn all War, Pard, to fight for … somethin' that wasn't there anymore when we come back! An' it … Slim, it ain't even right nor fair of me to ask you to understand what losin' th' War an' then findin' it was pretty much for nothing was like, then!

Our whole, entire world had gone an' died whilst we were some'eres else! How in th' very devil could y'? How could anybody that never fought for somethin' an' then found it gone… just gone?…It ain't right I should even ask y' t' get that, Pard, when y' never knew a fight like that 'un.'' Jess sighed, his shoulders slumping, and yet feeling oddly touched by the rancher's deep compassion.

[ _That's it, then._ ] Slim nodded, but only in his thoughts, so the Texan wouldn't see.

[ _This is about his family and all that means to Jess… including all the loss and all the guilt. It's all those things I don't and never will understand as well as my partner does, not by half! And it would be a damned lie to say I do or I can. _

_But how do I get this mulish black-Irish Texan to just admit it's Jemmy being family, and still making the choice he did that still galls Jess, more than ten years on? I don't think I can take this much further, not without driving Jess back into his danged 'Big Open'! And I'm not about to allow my brother to go back to the emptiness I know he lived with then, day after day, night after night! That would destroy Jess, and we both _

_know it!_ ]

'' I have known a hard fight or two, though, Jess. Pop and Ma, Jonesy and me and Andy we all fought for every square inch of this place. And when Pop died, for awhile it seemed like all that was for … just like you said, for something that would never be again.'' Slim protested, knowing he had to let Jess finish, angry or not.

''Yeah… figure that's close to it… But, damn! I wish my cousin Cooper was here right now to deliver this part of the sermon…''

[ _Yeah, Yeah, ol' Coop could likely get this particular sermon through that thick as bricks sometimes, head of yours, Slim!_ ] Jess thought, hiding a grin at the idea. [ _Figure Coop could straighten my Pard out on quite a few subjects! Wonder how I could look him up, wonder what Coop would say to this wide eyed Pard of mine?_ ]

''Cause his text would be the story of the First Texas Volunteer Infantry, Company K, that called themselves 'The Texas Invincibles.'

Cooper rode from Nacogdoches County all the way over to Marion County just to join that Company. And one of the other boys in his Regiment later wrote a letter home and said: 'We cannot be whipped, though they may kill us all'. And on 12th April of '65,, three days after General Lee surrendered, there were only 149 men of the First Texas, left to surrender their arms. That's 149, out of a total of 12 Companies, each with as close as they could come, to start, to a hundred men.''

''One hundred… '' Slim echoed, saddened and astonished.

'' and forty nine boys. '' Jess nodded. ''And they couldn't be whipped. Only they were, they were whipped all to hell.''

'' But that was…''

''th' War?'' Jess asked, so quietly now, the rancher almost didn't hear. ''Yeah, it was our war, just like you said a little while ago, Slim. Only when

I try to answer why it's not all th' way over for me, or for a lot of other Southrons, I can't, b'cause in th' back of my head is that not yet nineteen year old me, cussin' an' damnin' an yellin', that it wasn't ever supposed to come out that way!

But, it did, and boys like me and Cooper went home and to one degree or another, our home wasn't there any more… not Th' one we left behind! And it never will be there again, not even what little I had left there, b'fore Th' damn-all War ever got started. Now, d' y' figure you can get anywhere near t' understandin' that, Pard?''

'' I … I can try. '' Slim offered. '' Will you listen while I try, Jess?''

'' Reckon so, y' heard me out. '' Jess agreed, shrugging.

'' What you're telling me, Pard, is that even though you and the boys you fought with knew the war was going to end, and not in your favor, that when it happened, when Lee and then Johnston, and finally Taylor and Forrest surrendered, it … broke your dreams once and for all, it broke your hearts, going home as paroled men, not victors. And, you're telling me that some times, even now, things can come up, and send you right back to that time… maybe the worst time in your lives.

And I think I do get why that's all tied up for you in what happened to your folks, Jess. And I think I do get that losin' your family that way is something that never really goes away, either, as if both that and the War were land mines still in your road, still laying there waiting to blow… And, nothing like either of those things ever happened to me, so I'm not always that good at knowing where the land mines still are for you. How'm I doin' now?''

''Not bad, not bad for a thickheaded damn Yankee. '' Jess admitted. ''Anything else?''

'' Well, yeah, maybe you should have added that I'm just as stubborn as you, if not more so, and maybe even naïve, sometimes, at least compared to a hard-case like yourself. And that you're stickin' around these parts to save me from my own misguided optimism?''

'' Somethin' like that, yeah. And you're learnin'.'' Jess gibed, '' You're improvin' some. But you forgot to add in that you're also pushy as all get out.''

'' And you're not?'' Slim laughed. ' So, if I got my essay questions right, and my true or false, can I assume you're ready to sign the Armistice at last, General Harper, sir?''

Once more, the Texan studied Slim's face, looking for any sign of scorn riding below his usual bantering. Finding none, he allowed himself and the rancher another taut smile. '' Time was I'd have said when pigs fly, General Sherman, sir! '' Jess said, turning his head and seeing Daisy standing in the doorway, one silver eyebrow raised.

'' Nowadays, I just dunno I kinda got it enforced on me, at Th' time, y'know. Didn't exactly get a choice, did I? And I was, all of us were so danged proud… reckon we had some braggin' rights, in Terry's Rangers though, seems like when we rode down on th' Yankee's flanks, they mostly rolled up like a lot of blue-dyed Persian carpets.''

''Yeah… yeah, so you say. Well, First Nebraska saw a little action too, at some places nobody'll ever hear of, like Donelson and Shiloh. '' Slim waited for a sharp retort from the Texan, and instead got a wide-eyed blue-sky look of incredulity.

'' You were… First Nebraska was at Pittsburg Landing? So were we! Dang it, Slim, we could've met up then and there, on almost as friendly terms as we did when I got here.''

'' You mean when you came onto the ranch and started in right away actin' as if you owned the place, fishin' and campin' and such, Pard?''

'' And I still say, if you had a problem with that, you should have posted No Trespass signs around here. '' Jess insisted, but without any anger in his tone.

''Umm, Jess?'' Slim asked.

'' Yeah, Slim?''

'' You tied Traveler to the only No Trespass sign I had up, at the time!'' Slim laughed.

'' Like I've said a few thousand times by now, Pard, I didn't see any barbed wire fences around that section at the time. As far as I knew, it was still just open territory. And I never like to see open range fenced in, figure I start to feel fenced in myself. There's still too much of the Big Open in me, reckon.''

'' We could have been shootin' at each other at Shiloh.'' Slim said, as if to himself.

'' Only if your Nebraska Volunteers were fool enough to stay on the left flank when we came down on it that first day.''

'' Fool enough?'' Slim repeated, feeling his own temper rise, again. ''We were still kinda green at that point, I guess. We surely didn't have any idea that Johnston and Beauregard would come at us on a Sunday morning!''

''Don't figure you could've done, considerin' the real fine, big Sunday breakfast all y'all left behind for us, in your hurry t' get t' church, of course.'' Jess grinned, his own sense of humor reasserting itself.

''Of course!'' Slim chuckled. ''Now, about that letter from your cousin…''

''Yeah, about that… if you found the danged thing, Slim, where is it?'' he challenged the rancher, which also wasn't something he expected would work awfully well for him. And he was right. It didn't.

'' Oh, Daisy still has it. She says it was stuffed in with Mike's socks, but with the ones he separated out for her, the way she's trying to teach him, that need darning. And then she said something about possession being nine-tenths of the law, Pard. So I don't know if she's going to give it to you now, or not.''

[ _Oh she's gonna give it to me, alright! Real polite-like, in model-school-mar'm-Daisy-style, and with both barrels!_ ] Jess considered, inwardly groaning. The young Texan rubbed at his eyes, as if they were suddenly full of grit, and rummaged around in his thoughts for some halfway decent way out of this tangle. [ _Get back to Andy's letter, that's it… Get Slim back to talking about Andy, that'll do 'er…_]

'' Hey, Pard, you're not really worried about Andy, now, are you? You know I was joshin' you, don't you, Slim? You did a fine job, helpin' him grow up the way your folks wanted, you and Jonesy. Jonesy's okay these days, ain't he?'' Jess asked.

'' No, I … I guess I just miss the youngster. '' Slim admitted. '' And Jonesy's fine, except for disliking St. Louis and cities, and the 'east' in general pretty much as much as Andy likes them. But he's managing.

And it isn't as if anything short of a broken back could have kept Jonesy from going east with Andy. Fact is, Jonesy's been writing Daisy, too. I don't know, Pard, I think there's something going on between those two!'' Slim grinned.

Jess chuckled at the picture the rancher was painting. If there were two people in the world as different from one another as Daisy Cooper and Jonesy he couldn't think who they might be, except, maybe, when they first met, Slim Sherman and Jess Harper. '' Now wouldn't that be something to see! Wait, Pard, no, back up, there!''

''Back up? Why?'' Slim asked, grinning at the same mental picture.

'' I just realized exactly how bad things could get around here, if Daisy and Jonesy ever put their heads together about the rest of us! Why, they'd have Mike in college and Andy a grandfather in no time flat! And that would only come along after they got you an' me hitched to a couple of school marms our own selves! No, we'd best keep Jonesy on t' other side of the 'ole' Miss' from our Miss Daisy!''

''Is that so, Jess Harper?'' the 'Miss' in question demanded, frowning as she strode across the dooryard towards the Texan. '' And just what makes you think it would be bad for Mike to attend college, someday? And just what would be so terrible about our Andy growing up to have a wife and family and children and grandchildren? And just what makes you think you should, or could keep our Jonesy from crossing the Mississippi River, for any reason whatsoever? '' Daisy Cooper continued, punctuating each further question with a frown and a forefinger jabbing in Jess' direction.

And none of that would have bothered Jess as much if he hadn't noted she was waving a small grey envelope in her other hand, the envelope, and by the thickness of it, the letter inside he'd got from his friend and cousin, Jemmy Singer. Daisy's clear grey eyes didn't miss a trick either, she followed Jess' look at the letter and once more, shook her grey-silver head at him.

'' Oh, and about this letter, my young friend, I'd very much like to know why on earth you'd hide it, why you didn't even read it, put just then put it away in little Mike's bureau drawer. And I'd like to know why you wouldn't even mention either this letter or the one you received from Francine?'' Daisy asked and waited patiently, her features calm, her eyes still watching his every move.

''You didn't read it?'' Slim echoed. ''Then how in … Jess, how would you know what your cousin's asking?''

''''Because I've known th' boy, my cousin Jemmy, who sent it, ever since he was knee high to a June-bug, that's how! An' Jemmy's always had some foolery or other in th' works, that's how!'' Jess exclaimed, trying to hold his temper especially hard now, with Daisy standing right there.

'' Slim, dear, will you excuse Jess and myself for a moment, please?'' Daisy asked the rancher.

'' Yes, ma'am.'' Slim nodded, and strode into the barn to get to his chores, glad not to be the focus of the widow Cooper's cool, grey gaze himself, just now.

''Jess, dear, you're a very private person and I know that. And I respect that, in most cases. But in this case, no. In this case, I think you and I had better have a talk, young man, about this letter, and why it should be troubling you, and about a few other matters you seem to think you tucked back in Mike's bureau along with it.'' Daisy told Jess, in the exacting tone she more often used with nearly-ten-year-old Mike Williams.

'' And I know you both have a lot of work to get done. Well, so do I. So our talk, will just have to wait for after supper, I suppose. But you will sit down and talk with me then, won't you, Jess?''

Feeling as if he'd suddenly turned ten years old himself, Jess first shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then made a solemn study of his boots and the ground around them, and then looked back to his surrogate mother, and Slim's and Mike's. '' Yeah, sure, Daisy. Surely.'' the Texan agreed, nodding and sighing.

''And I have your word on that, that we'll talk over what's been troubling you just lately, this evening, don't I, Mister Harper, sir?'' she pressed, knowing her 'middle son' would never give his word to her and then break it.

Jess looked down into Daisy's wide grey eyes and saw there, as he had time and again since the day she first arrived, looking for 'Sherman, Wyoming', only her great kindliness and fierce caring for him. '' Yes, ma'am.'' Jess answered, with a half smile. '' You have my word on that, Missus Cooper, ma'am.''


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER TWO Eugenie Pascale's Wyoming mansion

outside Cheyenne, Wyoming,

''But are you certain both of them have gone? Are you quite, quite certain my Twin and his thoughtless boy both have left the compound and deserted the Company, without giving any sort of notice, or asking anyone's leave? And are you absolutely sure that foolish boy took those documents, and those papers with him? Lee Henry's son deliberately absconded with the same papers Solomon retrieved from the person of interest he encountered on that immigrant train?

There were some few dozen letters and two small leatherbound journals of a sort, as I recall, when Solomon placed them in my keeping. I haven't had the time to examine them yet, considering all the troubles I've had to deal with since the Company first arrived in Nebraska, nearly two months ago! But why would that idiot boy take those items?

How would he gain access to them? Great G-d! Do you believe my nephew means to take them, to put them into the hands of some damnYankee authorities?''

Solomon Howell heard The Widow asking someone, through the just barely open door of her study. The Second in Command of Her Company had been summoned to the mansion without any word of explanation, and was now unhappily cooling his heels in Pascale's front parlor! Now, apparently that other person gave her some nonverbal response, as Eugenie Pascale went on.

'' I knew my Twin was out of sorts with me, surely. But I can hardly credit he'd act in such a dastardly, disloyal fashion! Well, this must be dealt with and with no little celerity, as well! No, no, I won't put that task on your shoulders. I need your counsel and your companionship now more than ever. I know who I must send to rectify these matters. And please, don't sulk, Dear Man. This is far more a matter for his … particularly swift, sure ways and means than for your gentlemanly manner, or your genuine eloquence when presenting a case to judge and jury.''

_Judge and jury! _Howell grimaced._ She's got Moray in there, with her, and as usual, he's up to no good, no good whatever! That dandified would be aristocrat always has some kind of trouble up his silk shirtsleeves. But lately he's been grinnin' like a cat with mouthful of canary! Worse yet, he's been at the Widow constantly, lately for one reason or another, currying favor with her, layering on the flattery and all his damned pretensions. He's got some kind of troublemaking in mind and I am not about to turn 'errand boy' for Moray's latest scheme, no matter what Herself has to say! _

''Your servant, as always, ma'am.''Moray all but cooed, and suddenly Solomon Howell wondered if the former prosecutor from Charleston knew he had an audience of two, one on either side of the study door. '' G-d knows,

I am utterly willing to do whatever must be done to ensure the safety of yourself and the success of your grand endeavors. I would go to the ends of the earth to carry out your slightest whim. But I am loath indeed to leave you no other, no better companions but your houseboys, our old battle-crows, or those young ruffians out in the dooryard. And, in all honesty, I'd much prefer never to leave your side again, Dear Lady!''

'' Why Heydon Palmerston, if I did not know how earnestly you respect our dear Napier, and how firmly you believe in the bonds of matrimony, I would think you were paying court to me!'' The Widow exclaimed, laughing like a debutante.

''My Dear Lady, no, it's nothing of the kind, of course not! I bear such a tremendous honor and regard for our general, and for yourself, that I cannot find the words to express it, ma'am!'' Moray insisted.

_And she believes you, you damnable toadying fop! _Howell thought, seriously considering the option of straight away interrupting their conversation, despite the Widow's often stated dislike for angry scenes. _She doesn't like scenes, no, not a bit, not unless she's the one at their centre!_ _And as for you, Moray, you can't find the words to express something you don't feel a bit! _

''Oh, of course, of course. '' The Widow said. '' I only meant that you are far too fine a Southron gentleman to flirt with a married woman in her husband, and her younger brother's presence. Not that any woman past a certain age truly minds the flattery and attention of a handsome male companion. Nevertheless, what is even more important, now, is that you are to stay here, and begin your work on the next stage of our … endeavors.

That will commence immediately following the Company's final sortie. The General, Neddy and I will be relying on your skills, and your experience to direct, and to carry out those proceedings, as our Master Prosecutor. And you did give me your solemn promise, Heydon Palmerston, that you would take over that role.

You gave me your oath you would take on that duty for the Company, when it became apparent, well before today, that my Twin had no further desire to perform that office. Indeed, it now appears Lee Henry has no further desire to help me, whatsoever. What's that you say, Neddy darling? Oh, yes, yes, of course, how could I have let that slip my mind?

Heydon Palmerston, Neddy wishes me to convey his deep appreciation, and his great respect to you, for the manner in which you continue to carry out your duties to the Company, without even once failing in the part of a true Southron gentleman. On that basis, he has every confidence in you, and so, of course, does my General. Now, if you will leave by way of the library, Dear Sir, I do have another pressing appointment.''

''Just as you say, Dear Lady.'' Moray answered and Solomon Howell wished he could look through the study door, to see whether or nor being summarily dismissed from 'the presence', dismayed or at least chagrinned the Charleston native. Apparently it didn't make the South Carolinian very happy, as Howell could hear him leaving the study and lambasting one of the younger Company men, young Trav Belden, for 'standing and gawking like a countrified bumpkin!'

''Yes, yes.'' The Widow answered, absently, her voice, and her attention clearly directed elsewhere. '' Neddy, Neddy dearest, you are looking dreadfully peaked. You must, you simply must leave off your books this afternoon and come for a ride with me. A good canter always does you wonders! Napier, dearest, you agree with me, don't you? I know you have commissioned our Neddy to help research and compile your memoirs, my own heart. But he's not going to be well enough to lift a pencil, much less one of those tomes from the Records Office in Richmond, if he doesn't get some exercise.

There's a dear, dear man, thank you, my heart. Neddy, I'll expect you to join me at the stables no later than quarter past two this afternoon. Jaimey -lad, is our dear Colonel Howell still awaiting me in the front parlor?''

Silent as always, one of her mulatto houseboys, Jaimey Johnston simply nodded, and opened the study door for The Widow.

''Thank you, my lad. Go now and get the General his brunch, will you, Jaimey? The poor man's been up to his ears in records and dispatches and such all morning, to such an extent that he quite forgot breakfast!'' Pascale said , then swept into the front parlor, and waited for the door to be closed behind her. ''Solomon, Solomon, my dear man, I'm deeply apologetic for keeping you waiting, I do assure you.'' The Widow insisted. '' Might I still have a moment of your invaluable time?''

''Missus Pascale, certainly.'' Howell agreed, with a stiff bow. He wasn't about to ask questions outright and thus be seen as either unaware or incompetent. And so, instead he'd been waiting several days for either the widow of his general, or her brother Lee Henry Morrissey to tell him why their 'final sortie' had been once again, delayed. Instead of being on the road to their next and last stopping point, the Company was still quartered in this huge, if rather battered old house on the outskirts of Cheyenne.

'' First, '' the woman said, '' I want to thank you for your patience and forbearance of late. The General extends his gratitude as well. He has always been very well aware of your utter loyalty, Solomon, as I'm sure you know. But being a man of few words, my dearest Napier can at times seem almost brusque, even with a dear old friend such as yourself. And now I have a charge for you, Solomon, one that comes directly from General Pascale, himself. And it is also one, you may be well assured, Napier would entrust to none other than yourself.''

Howell looked at the still elegant, still beautiful, increasingly insane woman, and curtly nodded again. General Phillips Napier Pascale had died, in his aide's arms during the siege of Richmond, of a gunshot wound to the temple, more than nine years ago, that aide being Colonel Solomon Antony Howell. The fact that Eugenie Pascale no longer seemed to recognize that basic truth had long ceased to amaze Howell. Nowadays it wasn't even a distraction.

''I have always been and will always be immensely honored to have… the General's trust, ma'am. What orders did he leave for me, at this point, if I may be so brusque as to ask, directly?'' Howell demanded to know, and then waited for whatever bizarre response she'd make. He'd determined to leave Pascale and the Company behind, and soon, for the sake of keeping his tall, thin frame and his neck properly, firmly attached to each other, and free of any Unionist noose or gibbet.

But he was willing to carry out the final sortie as planned for more the last quarter of a year now. Too much had been done to reach this point. Too much time and energy had been expended to bring 'the grand endeavors' of Pascale's Company to their intended conclusion, for him to leave before that hour arrived. But now the madwoman succeeded for the first time in months in astounding her chief executioner.

' Your orders, Solomon, are to seek out and destroy my brother and his son.'' Pascale told him, very much as if she were instructing Howell to find and crush an anthill under his heel.

''Ma'am?'' Howell just barely managed to respond, struggling to keep his composure as an officer.

''Also, the General noted, and most importantly, you are to carry out these orders with all due haste and all due meticulousness, Colonel Howell. They must be thoroughly disposed of, before we move onto our final sortie.'' Pascale went on, giving the killer a rank he never received during the Conflict. ''Well, was there some question as regards these orders?''

_Yes, a few hundred questions, in fact!_ Howell thought, but did not say as much. '' Ma'am, it has never been my practice, or my philosophy as a soldier to question the orders of my lawful superiors. I do not intend to reverse that stance at this late date. If I had any question at all, just now,it would only be to inquire how long ago the two….persons in question left the Company's present quarters.''

'' My brother has utterly and finally deserted us, like the coward he's proven himself to be, as of thirty six hours, twenty nine minutes and thirteen seconds ago. His remaining whelp was covertly removed from these environs through equally traitorous agencies I have yet to determine fully, as of seventy one hours, nineteen minutes and forty three seconds prior to that last betrayal on the part of my erstwhile sibling.

And I am quite certain that my … brother, whom I have of course, utterly disowned and disinherited, along with his totally worthless whelp, absconded not only with funds he had no rightful claim to, but with some quite valuable bonds. I am also convinced that Lee Henry either himself took or arranged for his whelp and those treacherous agencies I mentioned, to take certain records, journals and private correspondence, with which he means to do tremendous harm to the Company. In other words, with which he means to betray us, Solomon.

And the General, although it grieved him terribly to do so, has of the present instant, instigated the process of having them both dishonorably discharged as well as beginning courts martial proceedings against them. They are vile, heartless traitors, Solomon. They are despicable, contemptible craven blackguards.

And they must never, they will never be permitted to jeopardize the Company's grand endeavors at this point in the campaign. Therefore, their fate is sealed, by their own reprehensible acts.''

_Lee Henry, what were you thinking? To leave in this lunatic woman's hands all the power and the resources she needs to do just what she says… to seek out and destroy you? Is it possible, can it be possible that you have chosen to betray us all?_ Howell wondered. _ And for that matter, how did you ever persuade that hapless boy of yours to leave 'his fun'? And now I am ordered to treat you as an attainted traitor? And so I must, if you are in fact presently seeking to walk all of the remaining Company onto a Unionist gallows! But if this is only more of Moray Moray's damnable scheming…_

''Well, Solomon, you have your orders. And the General expects them to be carried out with all due celerity. We cannot, as I've already noted, proceed with our final sortie while those two treacherous villains live and thrive out amongst our foes! '' Pascale said, breaking into Howell's confused thoughts.

''Yes, ma'am. I understand.'' Howell half lied. He understood that Pascale's madness might have taken a new and darker turn. What he didn't understand was the failure of his former colleague to give the least signal of a desire to quit the Company or their bloody endeavors. Was the general's widow genuinely more insane than ever, or was she merely lying to him? Was her twin a 'traitor' or only an 'escapee' at long last, along with his last living son, from her clawing, clinging, ravening lunacy? Or were all of them unwittingly dancing to Moray's latest tune! ''And I do have just one other question, Missus Pascale, if I may.''

'' You may, just one other.'' she echoed, as if barely still aware he stood next to her.

In fact, her wide grey eyes were fixed on a tableau only Eugenie Pascale could see, now. In it, her twin sat against a wall, very slowly, very remorsefully dying, much as if he were enacting a closing scene from one of 'Mister Shakespeare's' tragedies'. Yes, it must be _King Lear,_ she considered, since as she watched, Lee Henry held and rocked the lifeless form of his broken, battered, hapless boy-child.

''Missus Pascale, '' Howell now said, wondering if she even heard him. '' You mentioned other traitorous agencies involved in taking the younger of these

two covertly from our quarters. And as such agencies would pose an immediate danger to the Company, to the grand endeavors and to yourself, ma'am, I only wished to ask. ma'am if you had any information, any evidence at all of what or who those agencies might have been? Knowing that, ma'am would give me a far better notion of where … at least one of the … traitors might be found, now.''

''I do not. I would have no means of knowing any such low, mean, disreputable, dishonorable persons.'' Pascale insisted coldly. '' I realize that does not make your charge any lighter, Solomon. However the general and I have every confidence in the world you shall be able to carry it out.''

''Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am. And my gratitude for this honorable task, to the general, as well. Please give him my best regards, if you will, Missus Pascale.'' Howell nodded and left her.

''Yes, yes, of course.'' Eugenie Pascale murmured, then turned back to her fancies and fantasies again.

'' Yes, Neddy? Yes, dearest, our dear Solomon has it all well in hand now. Nothing shall prevent him from eradicating the dishonor done our family name by those two… changelings, little brother, nothing, ever! What? What was that, Napier, my heart's dearest love? Yes, surely, I will take that walk in the arboretum with you both, just as I promised. I'm so very, very glad, my dears you could both get leave to spend some time with your old, fond, foolish 'genie. So very glad, indeed, indeed. Isn't it a lovely, calm, cool day, my dears? Such perfect weather we're having for your stay! ''

Solomon Howell strode out to the stables behind the old mansion, shaking his head over the madness of the woman still within, talking to her ghosts far more than she did to the living. In and around the stables, his Company, as Howell allowed himself to think of it, when away from Pascale's cold blooded, manic chatter, slept and read, lounged and fought and, in a very few cases, actually worked on target practice or the other drills he gave them. And as he approached them, from around the corner of the mansion, Howell stopped to study the men and boys remaining in their band.

[_Lee Henry, I swore to follow the General to hell and back, and after he was gone, to follow you! But I rode down to Fort Collins, five days ago, still trying to find out how that imbecilic mistake was made as regards Harper's cousin!_ _And I found out, Lee Henry! I found that our supposed informants were thrown in the stockade at Kearney, after they'd already been arrested as drunk and disorderly by the local law down in Lincoln, around the same time I took out that puling wildcat of a little Yankee whore and her whelp, on the damn sodbuster's train! So they couldn't tell us which east Texas cousin was which! And that meant we had nothing to go on but a description of Harper! They're first cousins, not twin brothers, Lee Henry! Who would expect them to turn up identical! And I come back to Cheyenne today, to find your worthless, spoiled rotten son and you both gone AWOL! _]

'Hey, Sol!'' 'berto Geronne called out now, ambling towards Howell like a talking gorilla. '' Hey, when'd you get back from Collins, boy?''

'' This morning, 'berto. Now, you answer me a couple of questions:

When did Lee Henry ride out of here? And when did his boy take off, before or after he did?'' Howell demanded.

''Well, I don't rightly recall when Lee Henry took off, Sol. Likely before I was up and around t'other day, Likely that was a day an' a half ago, or so. But Neddy boy, he said he was goin' into Chey three, mebbee four days back.

He spotted some real pretty red-headed ladies, there, If you take my meanin.

An' I tol' him, Neddy-boy, I said, it's 'bout time ye got yer 'educatin'… if you take my meanin'.. Figure he did, Sol, cause he still ain't come back! '' Geronne laughed harshly at his own idea of humor. '' Figure either them 'red-headed ladies kilt th' boy plumb ded with … affection… or he's still got somethin' good goin over in Chey! Mebbee I'll go on over an' take a look fer m'self, whilst we're settin' 'round hereabouts, getting' nothin' done!''

'' druther you'd stay in quarters a bit longer, 'berto.'' Howell told the tall, heavily built man, and it wasn't a suggestion. ''druther all th' boys stay in quarters whilst I get somethin' cleared up here. We might mebbee have us situation… mebbee. All right, you've had a couple or three days off! Now that's done! Sol's back! Now, all y'all fall in an' answer to roll call! Snap to, boys, on the double-quick, there! And, sing out, like always when your moniker's called! Adamson, Ezekiel Lael''

'' m' here, Solomon!'' the sleepy eyed gunfighter called back. ''Where else'd I be, boy?''

''Shut it, Zeke, I'm just callin' the roll here. Alexander, Jay Randolph! Rand!'' the Company's new Commander shouted.

'''m here, Sol, just checkin the backs of m' eyelids…'' one of the younger 'lads', with dark brown eyes, high cheekbones and dark brown, almost to black hair, all of which had some of the boys calling him 'breed' or 'half-breed', until he taught them better respect for his part Kiowa-Apache ancestry, called out in return, laughing.

''for holes, right. Ashford, Jordan McTiernan, Jordy! answer to the roll call.'' Howell went on.

''I'm here! Present and half ways accountable, some times! But, d'y'all always haveta wake a fella up just to find out if a fella's here or not, Solly?'' Jordy Ashford answered, his dark eyes glinting, his long, muscular frame keeping a lazy stance that belied his ready gun hand and yet readier temper.

'' Whenever I need to take Th' roll, yeah, you need to wake up for it, Jordy.

Ashford, Ian Josiah, if you will answer the roll, sir!'' Howell went on, addressing Jordy Ashford's cousin, a dark, aquiline featured, powerfully built Mississippian with a wry sense of humor and a draw and a temper known to be quicker than most of the Company's present members.

''With great pleasure, surely, Solomon old man.'' Joss Ashford replied, bowing in a familiarly mocking style to the Company's new Commander.

'' Ian Josiah Ashford, present for duty as ordered, sir, with not the least intent of being held accountable unless absolutely necessary.

'' A sentiment we all hold to, Joss.'' Howell agreed. '' Ashton, Morgan Nathaniel, Natty Ashton, answer to the roll!''

''I'm here, Solly!'' the youngest member of the Company at age 16 called out, rushing to join the others, his reddish sandy hair flying, his lanky limbs akimbo, and his voice cracking embarrassingly as he answered.

'' I think he meant for you to answer to the roll properly, Natty-boy.'' Joss Ashford chuckled at his orphaned youngest cousin, along with everyone present except Howell. '' So mebbee you should try that over. Sol's got Command, now, after all.''

''Oh, yeah, sorry! Morgan Nathaniel Ashton, present for … for duty, Mister Colonel Howell, sir. An' reckon I mi' mebbee prett much 'countable … yes, sir. '' the boy corrected himself, offering a snappy salute as well, after a quick glance at Howell.

''More than most of these fellows, I'm sure of that, Natty.'' Howell nodded, just barely grinning at the boy, smartly returning the salute. ''Ashton, Dariell Aurielius…, answer to the roll. Darry ''

''Dariell Aurielius Ashton, present and as accounted for as I'm ever gonna be, Sol! An' don' none of you start in on the name my granddaddy bequeathed me 'gain, neither!'' A slighter, dark sandy-haired, dark eyed younger 'Company man' called back, favoring his colleagues with a scowl.

''They won't, Darry, at least not till I get this done. Ashton, Cillian Niall, Niall Ashton, answer to the roll call." The Colonel continued.

" Granddaddy got Darry's name outa some ol' book from history or somethin' like thet." The next Company man in line, a compactly built youngster with a mop of red-blond hair and clear hazel eyes now called back. "Umm, sorry, Colonel Sol. Cillian Niall Ashton, present an' not gonna be accounted by nobody, without my say so!

"Not as long as you keep that left jab going, just as I showed you; and that Bowie knife under your shirt, Nially-boy. " Howell agreed, shaking his head at the most overconfident of the young men in his command. " Belden, William Barret Travis, Trav Belden, answer the roll call!'' the Colonel continued, before young Ashton could draw breath to retort.

''I'm here, Colonel Solly!'' a slight-built, long legged sandy mop-haired young man called out, pulling on a cotton flannel shirt, as he ran to join the line of Company men now roughly forming in front of Howell. ''Dint know you was fixin' t' call th' roll, Solly, when I saw y' just now, traipsin' through th' Widow's …''

'' I was reporting in to the Widow, if that's any of your business, boy, which it ain't! Now, answer properly to the roll, or you'll be walking punishment till your legs fall off, Trav.'' Howell warned him, putting one long hand up to his mouth to hide his grin at the boy, who was one of the most ardent of the younger set.

''Huh? Oh, sorry, Colonel, Sir. Belden, William Barret Travis, present for duty as ordered, Sir. Don't figure I'm too awfully 'countable, though… '' the youth answered.

''No, don't figure you are, either, boy. Boudin, Christophe Apollona…'' Howell called out the next name on the roster.

''Apollonaire, Mon ami, presente, and I don't ask where _granpere_ got that one, either. Giles! Ecoute!'' 'Chris' Boudin, a powerfully built, swarthy Haitian born fellow answered, sketching a bow, then turning to the man beside him.

'' I'm calling the roll, Chris, so just stand down, now!'' Howell insisted. ''Boudin, Giles Toussaint, answer the roll!''

'' Avec plaisir, m'sieur Solomon. Giles Toussaint Boudin, the handsomer of the surviving freres Boudin, I might add.'' the next elder Boudin, slighter and darker than his brother replied, with a bright, rakish grin even wider than the one Christophe was wearing now.

''You always do.'' Howell noted. '' Boudin, Honore Andre, if you will now answer to the roll, we would be grateful, sir. ''

'' Honore Andre Boudin, present and accounted for, Colonel Howell, sir. And I'd like it noted for the record that my brother Giles is neither the eldest, nor the best looking of our tribe. That honor falls to our dear Anatole, still, happily retired in Port au Prince, these days. '' The third Boudin brother stated, a powerful figure of a man with a salt and pepper thatch of hair and heavy beard, almost hiding his saturnine features.

''Thank you, sir. It is so noted.'' Howell agreed, knowing he was infuriating the third-born Boudin by acquiescing to his next older brother. ''Brennan, Ceallach Niall! Kelly Brennan!'' the Colonel called out next.

'' Kelly Brennan, at your darlin' sir's darlin' service, Solomon, me lad.'' laughingly called back a green eyed, dark haired lithely built young man with handsome 'map

of Ireland' features.

''Never mind that for now, Kel. You're off the sick list, now, right?'' Howell asked.

'' I am that.'' Brennan agreed, smiling.

''Finally. Clement, Julien Reynald Duval! Reyny!'' the Colonel shouted out the next name.

''Julien Reynald Duval Clement, present for duty as ordered, and entirely undesirous to be held accountable, my dear sir!'' One of the Boudin's young cousins, a lanky young man with a slight Haitian accent and thick dark hair, atop sharply chiseled features lit by blazing blue eyes.

''As are we all, Reyny, as are we all. Clement, Remiel Jean Baptiste. Remy Clement, answer the roll." Howell demanded.

" Clement, Remiel Jean Baptiste, present as ordered for duty, _mon Colonel_, and equally undesirous of any such _travaille._" The young man called on, a sturdier built version of his half brother Reyny, answered with a wide grin and a pure Gallic shrug.

"Don't we know it. You're officially fit for duty now, too. Is that right, Remy?"

"_Mais oui, mais certainment, mon Colonel! _And you may ask _M'sieur l' Docteur_ Gabriel, if that is not so." Remy replied.

"I might do just that. Doctor Gabriel Dareau Colville, if you would answer the roll, we would all be greatly obliged." Howell said, turning to one of the Company's elders, a wiry gentleman from Atlanta with a thick head of pure white hair and blazing bright blue eyes.

'Colville, Gabriel Dareau reporting as requested and I might add, very graciously, too, Solomon, lad." The old Georgian replied, nodding. " And I'll be glad to give you my report on the medical status of the Company whenever you have a moment."

"I appreciate that, very much, sir, thank you." Howell said with a quick bow, and every man there knew he meant it. Davidson, Arthur Joseph, Joey Davidson! Answer the roll call!'' Howell called out next.

'' Arthur Joseph Davdson, present for duty as ordered, Soll… Colonel, sir. But I ain't about to be held 'countable if none of the rest of y'all are!'' answered another young man, with thick light brown hair cropped short during a recent bout of malaria, deep set dark eyes and a strong, squarish build similar to his second cousin, Zeke Adamson's.

''Well, that seems to be the general idea, Little Joe.'' Howell noted, giving the youngster a nickname they all knew he hated, and had to tolerate, coming from their Commander. '' Denholm, Abram Stuart, answer the roll! And I meant Abram, not you, Abel. The roll is called in strict alphabetical order and you dang well know it, by now.'' Howell frowned as the twin of the youth he called for ran into place in the line instead. He'd had more than enough of these identical twin pranksters, especially following his mistaking one identical east Texas cousin for the other.

'' Denholm, Abram Stuart, present as ordered for duty, sir! An' accountable, when and if I've got to be, not a minute before. ' the called-for Twin, a mop headed, towhead blond youth with a strong build and wide grey eyes cheerily answered, stepping up alongside his brother and nudging him down one place in line.

'' Still don't know how you manage to tell us from each other, Colonel, sir. Sometimes even momma couldn't manage that! ''

'' She didn't have time to note that you don't squint or mumble or hunch your shoulders as much as Abel I'd have to guess.'' Howell answered, holding back a half grin at the youth. '' Denholm, Abel Wallace , now answer the roll call!''

''Denholm, Abel Wallace , present as ordered for duty, sir. No harm intended, Colonel, sir. Figure I'm no more an' no less 'countable than ol' Abe here. Figure you know I always call him ol' Abe, cos he came hurryin' on out t' get born ahead of me, not cos he went out splittin' any rails or such.''

'' And a danged good thing that was, too. One danged rail-splitter was more than enough! Deveraux, Addison Cooper! 'Addy!'' Solomon Howell shouted.

'' Addison Cooper Deveraux, present, but not likely to be accountable for anything if I can help it, Solomon.'' the so named tall, muscular 'gentleman' answered, with a mocking bow. This was one of the older Company members, who'd ridden with Howell, Morrissey and the late General Pascale. His weathered, pockmarked features showed that bitter experience and a lot of hard living that followed, but almost hid his deep-set, almost always cynically amused grey-blue eyes.

"Couldn't agree more, Addy. Reverend Noach Thieroux Deveraux, will you

do us the kindness, Reverend Thierry, Sir, of answering to the role?" The Colonel asked, turning to another of the 'old crows' present.

This was Addison's uncle, and The Widow Pascale's long time minister from New Orleans. He was a strongly built, kindly looking gentleman, with round features set with bright brown eyes, and a visibly receding hairline, as well as an iron determination where his 'flock' was concerned.

"With pleasure, Solomon." The gentleman called on answered. " And if I could have a word with you, sometime this afternoon. I believe you already may have surmised what I wish to discuss, having just come from The Widow's rooms."

" Surely, Reverend." Howell agreed. "I believe I take your meaning. And I'd be glad to discuss that issue. Perhaps we could talk just after dinner, it that would suit you, sir."

"Certainly it would." The old Episcopalian minister nodded. "I thank you.

I'm afraid you're going to have to excuse me, now. The Widow asked me to come to her as soon as I might. She seems to be rather worked up about something." "Yes, so it seemed to me, as well." The Colonel nodded. "Deveraux, John Nolan, Nolly Deveraux, answer the roll."

" Deveraux, John Nolan, present as ordered, for duty, Colonel. But I doubt I'm as accountable as my Uncle Thierry. Few people are." The next man in the line called out, grinning. This was Addison's half brother , a tall, bright eyed, dark curly headed young man with strong, handsome features. He also possessed a calm, unruffled pleasant manner that belied as quick a temper or a gun hand as anyone in the Company had.

"I'd have to agree with that, Nolly. Geronne, Miguel Roberto! 'berto!, answer the roll call, boy!'' the Colonel continued the roll, with one of his own Seconds'.

'' Sol-boy we done already talkt… '' The extraordinarily tall, round faced, heavily built mauler laughed.

''just answer th' damn all roll call, berto!'' Howell insisted.

'' Miguel Roberto Geronne, present, and at yer service, as always, Generalissimo Howell, suh! ''

''Well, you got that partly right, 'berto. At your own service would be more like it. '' Zeke Adamson called out, laughing.

'' Order in the ranks!'' Howell shouted back, as Geronne got ready to lay Adamson out with one of his powerful roundhouses. ''That includes you, too, 'berto. You can discuss Zeke's outburst when you're all dismissed. And that ain't happening anytime soon if y'all don't stop smart mouthin' and interruptin' the roll! Gordon, Andrew Paulson, Pauly Gordon, answer th' roll!''

''Andrew Paulson Gordon, present as ordered for duty, Colonel Sol, sir. Ain't been accountable in some while, though. Figure you know that, though.'' was the answer of the tall, broad shouldered, red headed man next in the line, his strong features just beginning to freckle as the spring days got warmer now.

''We know, Pauly. Gordon, Raibeart Neacal, answer the roll! Rabbie Gordon!'' the Colonel called out.

'' 'heard you, Solly. They can likely hear you in Denver, if you push it a tad bit more!'' Rabbie Gordon, present and don' none of you say I can't be counted on!'' answered "Pauly's' half brother, a wiry blond with a wide but constantly skeptical grin on his molded features.

'' They're not. I'm not. And one of these times maybe you'll get the difference. Hamilton, Beauregard Campion. If you would respond to the roll, sir. '' Howell asked, turning to the elder statesman of the Company.

'' Delighted to, old boy, delighted. Beauregard Campion Hamilton, present and sadly, with not much to account for, but delighted to be … called upon, these sad days.'' one of the elders of the 'Company' answered one of the true old-style neo-classic, ante bellum style gentlemen still in their ranks. He bowed his full head of white hair and his still graceful frame with a great deal more grace and laughed with far more real humor than any of his juniors, his handsome, weathered features lit by his bright blue eyes.

'' That's good of you to notice, sir, very good. Hamilton, Pierre Augustin, answer the roll call.'' Howell went on, turning to 'Campion Hamilton's nephew.

''Surely, surely. Hamilton, Pierre Augustin, present and entirely at your service… presently, Colonel, Sir. I have no statement prepared as regards my accountability however. Not just at present. '' The elder Hamilton's nephew, a lanky, dark haired, handsome scapegrace, bowed and grinned first at Howell and then at his uncle.

''You will let us know when you have any such statement prepared, won't you, Peter, old boy?'' 'Camp Hamilton jovially asked him. '' It might prove useful to any number of the fellows here. ''

''Oh, surely, uncle. surely. Always glad to be of assistance. '' Peter nodded.

''Could you assist me now by shutting it, Peter, old boy?'' Solomon Howell demanded. Smilingly, the tall black Irishman nodded and said not another word. Satisfied, Howell went on. ''Hamilton, Brody Dareau, answer to the roll.''

'' What? Oh, surely, Brody Dareau Hamilton, present and as close to being accounted for as ever, Sol. Thanks for goin' easy on Daddy, though.'' A broad shouldered blond, with a boxer's frame and strong arms, the rapid right cross that went with them, sleepy hazel eyes and an always watchful manner, answered.

'' He's more than earned it. Hamilton, Lucien Ethan, answer to the roll call. Luc Hamilton!'' the Colonel shouted out the next name on the roster.

''Oh, sorry, Colonel, sir. Sorry, Lucien Ethan Hamilton, present for duty as ordered. Reckon I'm as accountable as any of these other fellows.'' the next Company member in line replied. This was 'Peter' Hamilton's son, a strongly built young man of middle height, with finely molded features, sandy hair, and bright blue eyes. ''I doubt that's ever been in question, Luc. Hearkins, Matthew Marcus! Matty! '' Howell called out, frowning and not bothering to hide his dislike of the next man in line.

'' Hearkins, Matthew Marcus, present, and accountable… well, sometimes, Sol! '' the wiry young man, who Howell himself likened at times to a banty rooster, and who was known to have a lethal right cross amongst his other skills, responded to the name he mostly used, lately.

'' Right, Matty, right. sometimes will have to do, until we get on the move again, Matty. Then you'll have to shape up, and y' know that. Horton, Thomas Michael William, Tommy Horton, answer to the roll!'' Howell shouted.

'Thomas Michael William Horton, present for duty as ordered, Colonel. And I'd have to echo young Luc's sentiment, I believe. I'm surely no more or any less accountable than any of these fine boys.'' answered the next man to fall in line, a dark eyed, sharp featured fellow with deep set piercing grey eyes.

''All right. All right. The rest of you just acknowledge being present, for now on. I've heard more than I want of your danged jokes about being accounted for!'' Howell insisted. '' Howlys, Eamon Meical! Mi, Mi Howlys, answer the roll!''

'' Oh, sorry, guv'nor! Got a bit of a late start on early drill, as you might say! Eamon Meical Howlys, present and no more or less accountable, I suppose than anyone else present, Solomon, old chap.'' answered a taller young man with thick dark hair, sharp features and laughing grey-green eyes.

''Mi, were you even listening to the Man?'' the next fellow in line asked, laughing. ''He said no more wisecracks!''

'Oh, sorry guv'nor! Did he really? I'm terribly remiss, then! I must beg your pardon!'' Howlys insisted, although it was hard to tell if he was addressing his Commander or the older man who'd chided him, now.

''No, you must shut it, Mi, so I can get on with this fracas!'' Howell demanded. '' Howlys, Jesse Broderic, if you would answer the roll call, sir, instead of disciplining the troops, as that is also my function here. ''

The senior Howlys, the younger man's father, was wiry, with thick white hair and moustaches, his weathered features brightened by wide blue eyes. Now he grinned and nodded. '' Jesse Broderick Howlys, present for duty as ordered, Colonel Howell, sir. I suppose I've never really left off trying to reform the lad. ''

'' I suppose not." The Colonel noted, and went on. " Howlys, Rhys Arawn, answer to the roll."

"Howlys, Rhys Arawn, present as required for duty. However ,I find myself

no more accountable than anyone else present, Colonel. My profoundest apologies, sir." The third Howlys in the Company answered, winking at Howell. He was a tall, sandy haired hazel eyed disbarred attorney from Richmond and a long time friend of Howell's.

" And it is so noted, for the record, Rhys." Howell replied, shaking his head. "Hoynes, Aidan Padraic, Danny Hoynes, answer the roll."

'' Aidan, otherwise in this benighted American landscape known as Daniel Padraic Hoynes, present and at your service, Mister Howell, sir,'' The next man on the roll replied, a wiry fellow with coarse sandy hair, strong, molded features and dark hazel eyes that held laughter more often than anger. '' unlike my disrepu… ''

''I'll deal with the disreputable parts, Danny." The Colonel instructed. " Hoynes, Donovan Cellach Elijah, get on your feet, sir and answer the roll."

" Hoynes, Donovan Cellach Elijah, accountable as being always at your service, Colonel darlin'. And if you don't mind my sayin'… " The oldest Hoynes brother answered, laughing as he scrambled to his feet. Donny Hoynes was as tough as old shoe leather and in fact, his weathered, map of Ireland features somewhat resembled that material. And his deep set grey eyes and coarse unruly hair, as well as his strong shoulders and arms made him look like a boxer. But he was also considered the smartest of the Hoynes clan, at least the one who most often kept out of trouble.

"Until we get this roll done, Donny, I mind very much." Howell told him, and went on. "Hoynes, Sean Micheal! Seanny Hoynes, If you're not too drunk already this morning to do so, stand up this minute, and answer th' roll!"

'' It' ain't the danged-all to Perdition Army anymore, Solly! But 'm here anyhow, Sean Micheal Hoynes, ready for any ting and anyone ye've got! ''

The youngest Hoynes brother answered, frowning at his brother, shaking his thick, dark-sandy hair back out of his clear brown eyes, with a grin as wide as the River Shannon lighting his sharper features.

'' As long as you stay out of the pubs and the saloons, sure you are. Seanny. Hoynes, Devin Cleary, answer the roll call!'' the Colonel shouted.

'' Hoynes, Devin Cleary, present as ordered for duty, surely includin' any disciplinin' you'd like to assign me for these two wastrel cousins of mine, Colonel darlin', '' The third Hoynes, a tall, strapping fellow with coarse blond hair and deep set grey eyes, answered, grinning brightly at the notion he offered Howell.

''I'll let you know if I decide I need your help with that, Cleary. Jackson, Devlin Andrew, answer th' roll call! '' Howell told him and turned back to the roster.

''Devlin Jackson, present and not once in my life to be held accountable, Solomon!'' a dark-sandy haired, full bearded fellow, as lanky and as tall as Howell, with deep-set grey-green eyes answered, laughing, sounding and looking more than a little drunken, as he had, more and more often, of late. 'Dev's benders' had become infamous within the Company, taking him 'off duty', more times than he'd readily admit, because, Howell knew, he couldn't readily recall them all.

'' You're not even half sober this morning, are you, Dev?'' Howell asked.

''Not even a quarter, Solomon. It's far too early in the day for anything of the kind, as I think someone here already mentioned. '' Jackson laughed.

'' figured that, Dev. Kuenle, Desmond Piaras, answer the roll call!'' Howell shouted.

'' Yes, sir! Desmond Piaras Kuenle, present for duty as ordered, Colonel, sir!'' another of the younger members answered, saluting smartly, in his turn now. This was the youngest Kuenle brother and the only one of the younger element here who'd set so much as a toe inside a military prep school. His whole manner still showed that training, even if his sandy hair was longer than regulations called for, falling down into his deep set blue eyes, and his denim pants and shirt were far too threadbare, and too short on his lanky frame to pass formal inspection.

''Thank you, Mr. Kuenle. That was very well done.'' Howell once more hid a grin at the youngster's precisely correct manner, so out of place amongst his unruly cohort. Kuenle, Micheal Liam, answer the roll! Lee Kuenle!'' the Colonel said, frowning.

'' Micheal Liam Kuenle, present and highly accounted, Solomon, darlin', and that glad we are to have ye back amongst us; thus causin' the rowdier boys to … '' Kuenle called back, a handsome younger member of the Company, with coarse blond hair, sharp features and wide grey eyes, that missed nothing around him, including the chance at a jest, even if it was at his own expense, as he was normally one of the rowdiest 'boys' among them.

''Stow it, Lee. Kuenle, Aaron Thaddeus, answer the roll, sir." Howell called out.

" Honored, Colonel Sol. Kuenle, Aaron Thaddeus, present as ordered for duty. And I suppose you might say I'm accounted for, too." The man now called on responded. This tall, strongly built Virginian was young Desmond's adoptive father, and another one of the band who'd ridden with Howell during the War. His wide grey eyes were generally filled with the man's ironic wit, and his thick, greying dark sandy hair was close cropped right now, after surviving a recent recurrence of rheumatic fever.

"Glad to see you are, Thad." The Colonel acknowledged. "Kuenle, Torin Cinaed! Answer the roll! Torry!'' Howell shouted out the next name on his roster.

'' Ah there he is, the darlin' man! Torin Cinaed Kuenle of County Cleary, present, me fine sir, and me middle brother here, he's not half as glad as… '' the older Kuenle brother answered, shaking his head. 'Torry' was almost as dark as 'Lee' was fair, with more rugged features, a more muscular frame and dark hazel eyes.

'' This is taking all morning as it is, Torry… Can we jabber later about whatever it is you feel the need to jabber on about?'' the Colonel asked, but his tone and expression left no doubt as to the answer he required.

''Surely, Solomon, surely.'' Torry Kuenle agreed.

. "McGregor, Tamas Ethan Fairholm , answer to the roll, Tam!"

" And I'm more than pleased to do just that, Colonel, Sir." The tallest Company man answered, winking at his friend, 'berto Geronne and sketching a mocking bow in Moray's direction. This lean built, strawberry blond Scottish immigrant from a town on the North Sea, was generally considered one of the brightest men in the band as well, his intelligence shining in clear hazel eyes. "McGregor, Tamas Ethan Fairholm, reporting as ordered for duty, surely no less accountable than any man here, and surely more than some."

" Sir, if you are demeaning my character by those remarks, I will certainly have satisfaction from you!" Heydon Moray snarled, striding over to glare at the taller man.

"You will certainly have no such thing! Not while you remain in The Widow's Company, Moray!" Solomon Howell insisted, stepping between the two, frowning darkly at the former Charleston prosecutor. " This Company's founding agreement and most noteworthy ruling was and is that there

would be no feuding, no fighting and absolutely never any dueling between it's members! And that was established at The Widow's insistence, which

you know as well as any of us! So if you want to dispute Command on that question, I suggest you try taking the matter up with Herself, HP, and see where it gets you!"

For a moment, the Colonel thought Moray was going to openly challenge Howell's newly-minted role of Commander. The South Carolinian's icy grey eyes were nearly dancing with rage at being tweaked in front of the younger members he often tried 'cultivating'. Then Moray stepped back, incrementally and straightened his shoulders. Clearly he wasn't ready for the veiled Conflict between himself and Howell to be made public, just yet.

" Solomon, that is, Colonel Howell, Sir, I have no intention of disputing your authority here. _A true gentleman_ _never challenges his betters,_ after all. Your pardon, Mr. McGregor, I must have misunderstood your remarks. Moray claimed, somehow genteely still conveying his contempt for both men without giving either one leeway to call him out.

"That will do, HP. In fact that's more than enough." Howell told him. "McGregor, Zachary Asher. Ash McGregor, asnswer the roll!"

'' Zachary Asher McGregor, present as ordered for duty, sir. Anything else you fellows want to ask me can wait, like the Colonel said. ''The next man in line answered. This was the Company's chief go-between and so only rarely appeared at their quarters, a slight, sharp eyed, sharp featured fellow of middle years, with longish red hair and a watchful manner.

''Stop toadying up to the Colonel, Asher-lad!'' Seanny Hoynes shouted angrily now. '' We all know you're always spyin' and snitchin' and sneakin' around lookin' for ways to get the rest of us on report, or worse, plumb sold out, like all bloody money grubbin' Scots!''

''And we all know you couldn't keep a secret or hold a drop of liquor, much less do both at once, Seanny boyyo!'' McGregor hotly answered. ''So don't go looking to me for the reason you get in Dutch or worse! And don't go saying I'd sell any of you out, either, me lad! It's always Th' bloodydamn drunkard Irish race does that sort of buyin' an' sellin', never the Scots!''

Now the two were at it, and at each other before Howell or anyone else could move between them. This was a long-lived feud between the pair. It was also a problem Morrissey had tolerated, as their quarreling and brawling seemed to entertain the band as a whole.

Solomon Howell, however was not the least bit entertained right now. He nodded to Jordy and Joss Ashford, who promptly pulled Sean and Asher apart.

''Enough!'' Howell shouted at them. '' The both of you would be walking punishment detail for a month, if I had a month to spare for that! But I don't' and I'm sick of your dang spittin', snarlin' and fightin'. We're going to settle this once for all, after the rolls' taken and the business of the Company as a whole is addressed! And we're going to settle this by letting the two of you get your licks in till one or both go down for the count. And that will be the end of that! Do you take my meaning, gentlemen?''

'' Yes, sir.'' the chastised, somewhat surprised pair answered.

'' Joss, Jordy, take one each of these two idiots and lock them up on opposite sides of the main house. Then you come back, we've got more to do. I don't want to see or hear anything from either one till I'm ready to let them go ahead and try killing each other. And more than that, I don't' want the Widow hearing, seeing, or even guessing there's this kind of trouble within the ranks! Now, do you all, do all of you understand me, clearly?'' Howell ordered.

''Yes, Sir.'' the whole band responded, well aware his question was meant for them all.

''Fine. ''Good. Moray, Heydon Palmerston Catesby, HP Moray, answer to the roll call, as required." Howell called out, almost hoping the Charleston native would have gone awol.

'' One gentleman need never shout at another gentleman, Solomon, old friend. I am, as you can all see, present and entirely presentable, as a gentleman should be, always. '' The acknowledged dandy of the group replied, his usual apparently affable manner held firmly in place.

'' The Widow ain't interested in _anybody that's still alive and kickin'_, Moray!'' Geronne called out, laughing at the South Carolinian's well known, unremitting pretensions.

'' Shut your foul mouth, and immediately, sir, unless you would prefer I shut it for you!'' Moray warned, his grey eyes flashing, his lightning temper once more in evidence.

'' Both of you shut it.'' Howell ordered and, surprisingly they both did. "Morgan, Alexander Hamilton, sir, if you will answer the roll, we'll try to get on with more important matters as quickly as we can.'' the Colonel asked and once more turned to one of the Company's elders.

''Heydon Palmerston's right about one thing anyway, Solomon, you are a true gentleman. Alexander Hamilton Morgan, present and at your disposal, sir.'' The next man on the roll responded, another elder here. He had the respect of all but the wildest, most callous Company members, and wasn't interested in acquiring it, at this late date.

'Alec' Morgan in fact had a world-weary affect that well matched his weariness with the world, ten years after 'the Conflict' , in which he'd risen

to major general, ended. His dark grey eyes still showed the personal and martial resolution he'd displayed all his life, and with considerable valor. His molded features, under a wide brow and thick, coarse grey hair, still sometimes revealed the mourning of a man who'd lost all but his younger brother to 'the Glorious Cause' of the Confederacy.

''For which we are, as always, very grateful, thank you very kindly, sir. Morgan, Jonathan David, sir, if you would also answer to the roll, just as a formality, sir.'' Howell asked, his tone as respectful now as it had been angry a minute past.

'' Jonathan David Morgan, present and accountable, well, as much as any of us can be, these days, Solomon. And I do thank you for your courtesy, as always, to our elder members.'' Another of the older Company members, the younger of the two Morgans present, quietly answered, who'd not only ridden with but had once been General officers along with Napier Pascale.

Morgan was a wiry, greying blond, fine featured, quiet natured man anyone who met respected, not only because of his own inbred courtesy, but because of his well earned reputation for not suffering fools gladly anywhere in his environs. His bright blue eyes were those of a long time cavalry officer, always watching the enemy's flanks so as to turn them, or watching that they weren't about to turn his own.

'' It's my training, sir, as regards my betters, and my elders. Thank you, sir. Nash, Miller Paige, Miller-boy!'' the Colonel called out.

'' 'm still here, Solomon, that is, Mister General Howell, sir. Miller Paige Nash, present as ordered for duty, and rarin' t' go, most of the time, too… Dunno quite why… But here I am!'' another of the younger Company members answered, a strongly built young man, his dark eyes often lit with humor, his thick, sandy hair worn down to his collar.

'' Same as the rest of us are, Miller, for all the fun and half the glory.'' Howell actually found himself joking, to the astonishment of all the rest. And instead of shutting them down right away, the Colonel let the line of men have their share of the laugh, first. "Morrison, Alain Eduard, answer the roll!" he then called out.

" _Allors, mon Colonel, et gentilhommes, j' suis enchantez_ … " The man called on next, a tall, muscular Baton Rouge native, with dark, short cropped hair and deepset brown eyes answered, trying to continue the joking.

" Just answer the roll, Al, that's all you're required to do and all we have time for right now." Howell insisted, sighing at this young cousin of Lee Henry's notion of humor.

" _Oui, mais oui mon Colonel_. Morrison, Alain Eduard, present as always when called on for duty. And I believe you have found me well and truly accounted for on this and many other such occassions, Mon Colonel." The Louisiana native responded.

"When you hold back from drinking too much of your fancy cordials, yes, I have." Howell agreed. "Munroe, Jonathan Corrin, Corry,answer the roll."

" … Uh… Oh, yes, sir, Colonel Solly!" The next man in line a sturdily built, dark sandy haired, grey eyed cousin of Zeke Adamson's answered, seeming to be caught off guard, or worse, not paying heed to the roll.

"Ummm, oh, sorry! Did we roust you out too early, Corry-boy?" The man in line after him, Adam North by name, laughed aloud. Munroe was well known for running all night poker games whenever there was a lull in the Company's endeavors. He'd been up all night again, losing his wages.

"Order in the ranks!" The Colonel shouted. " Mr. North, you are not taking charge of this … increasingly worthless Command, are you?"

"Oh, oh, no, he's not! Wouldn't dream of it, would you, bro? Sorry, Colonel." The man in line after Adam, his brother Zach answered.

" And we're all glad to hear it! That being the case, I can get back to Mr. Munroe. Corry Munroe, you will immediately and properly sir, answer the roll!" Howell repeated, frowning darkly at his Second's younger cousin.

"Munroe, Jonathan Corrin, present as ordered for duty, Colonel Howell. Figure I must be accounted for, too, after all that fuss and bother." The beleagured man answered, shrugging.

" Figure you must be." The Colonel agreed. ''North, Adam Elijah, answer to the roll! Eli North! ''

'' North, Adam Elijah, present and hardly ever accountable, Solomon. But thanks for asking.'' the next man called, called back, a tall, broad shouldered blond, with sharp features and a hard-edged gleam in his bright blue eyes.

'' Right. North, Zachary Hosea, answer to the roll and could you please take less time about it, this time, Zach?'' the Colonel demanded.

'' North, Zachary Hosea, present and so I'd have to guess accounted for, Solly. Was it our Rabbie-lad needed an explanation on that point?'' the younger North's brother replied, grinning. His whole disposition was as different and more light-hearted as his dark grey eyes and dark auburn hair were from Adam's. Their familial resemblance showed most of all in the sharpness of their features and the bravado in their manner.

'' It was, and you can be the one to give it, Zach, as soon as we're done with this roll and the things that need to be … talked on, soonest. Phillipsen, Ian Christopher, answer to the roll call!'' Howell shouted.

''Phillipsen, Ian Christopher, present, sir, figure I'm accounted for, too, Sol.'' was the reply of a sturdily built younger man with green-hazel eyes lighting handsome, molded features.

''Figure you are, Chris… Pierce, Tyler! Pierce! '' Howell called out, and got no answer. ''Pierce, Tyler, Pierce, answer the roll, damn your eyes, sir!'' But now the whole group went unusually quiet and Howell looked up and down the ragged line, wondering what the devil they all seemed afraid to tell him.

''Ummm… Permission to speak out of turn, Sol?'' an exceptionally tall, younger man, possessed of a muscular build, light brown hair, deep-set greyblue eyes, and a laughing manner, now addressed the darker, slighter man.

'' Yeah, permission granted, I mean, Mickey, what's goin' on? Where's that damn fool Pierce?'' Howell demanded, as Mickey Stewart stepped out of the line.

'' Ty went and got himself just crazy, crazy drunk, Sol, the day after you left for Collins. And then the poor, damn fool, he decided to get on the meanest stud in the stables, here… the one 'berto and Matty called El Domingo… cause, I'd reckon the brute lorded it over … ever'thing… and most ever' body.'' Stewart told the Company's leader.

'' The damned horse killed him outright, Solomon! It threw Ty so damned hard, he broke his neck. And I'd have to reckon that was a mercy, kinda, cause he broke his back right along with it… We planted him, Sol, an' with her fine ladyship's say-so, we shot the crazed brute, too… I'd have to reckon nobody got around to tellin' you about it, quite yet, did they?'' Stewart answered.

''Nope. Nobody did. '' Howell said and didn't quite manage to hide a chill smile at the news of Pierce' demise. Randolph, D'arcy James, Jimmy Randolph, answer the roll!"

''Randolph, D'arcy James, present, and nowise, shape or form accountable, Mister Colonel-General Howell, sir! Figure you'd know that by now, Solly.'' Randolph answered, a rangy youth with close cropped sandy hair, molded features and wide grey eyes always with a touch of challenge.

''Figure I do, Jimmy. Reid, Brady Beauregard!'' the Colonel called, next.

'' Yeah, present an' unaccounted for!'' a lanky, dark haired, dark bearded blue eyed young man, sometimes jibed at by his friends as 'reedy' due to his whip thin frame, shouted back. ''When d' we get this party goin' again, Sol?''

'' When I say so! Rhys, Ewan Deiniol, answer to the roll! '' Howell shouted.

''ummm.. oh, yeah, Rhys, Ewan Deiniol, present and nowhere nigh onto accountable, Solly.'' was the laughing way the next Company 'man' answered. At sixteen and a half, Ewan Rhys was the youngest of the Company, having followed his older cousins, Jaimey and Mickey Stewart,

in 'signing on'. He made up for inexperience, the youth insisted, with his readiness to fight all comers, especially those who wanted to challenge that very lack of training. The dark eyed, dark haired youth already had a boxer's build, and liked to show off his sharp left hook, at any opportunity.

'' Yeah, got that. Stewart, James Charles. Jaimey Stewart, stand up straight boy and answer the roll call! '' Howell sighed, realizing these boys would never really stop joshing.

'' James Charles Stewart, present and … y'know, accounted, Sol. '' the second youngest of Rhys' cousins, as rangy and whip thin as Mickey, but with clear green eyes and less rugged features, called back, grinning and trying to look serious, all at once.

'' All right, we're getting down there, boys. Stewart, Micheal Liam, Mickey Stewart, answer the roll!'' the Colonel called out.

'' Micheal Liam Stewart, present and very nearly accountable, Solomon. Jaimey's tryin' Sol.'' Mickey Stewart offered.

'' Don't I know it. Stewart, Randall Elias, answer the roll call!'' Howell went on.

''Randall Elias Stewart, present for duty as ordered, sir. Figure Mickey's right about Jaimey tryin', Colonel Sol, sir. Figure I'm tryin' to set things…to get things right myself, most th' time.'' answered the next 'man' in the line, the youngest Stewart brother, a sturdily built, sandy-blond, blue eyed youngster with wide blue eyes that seemed to take everything in.

''Figure you'd best just do that, and stop tryin', Rand.'' Howell suggested. And now the rest of the Stuarts, Stuart, Charles Albert, Chance Stuart, answer the roll! ''

''Stuart, Chance, present, Solly and accounted for, the last time I checked, anyhow.'' the younger of the second 'batch' of Stewart/Stuarts present answered. Chance and his brother Quince claimed family ties to the late cavalry General, though where Mickey and Jaimey did not. Chance Stuart was one of the older members of the Company, his bright red hair greying, his long frame, and strong features both scarred by one 'firefight or another' as he put it, his deep set grey eyes always wary.

'' The last time you checked?'' the next man in the roll laughed out loud, with a rumbling, thunderous sound.

'' Order in the ranks!'' Howell demanded. '' Not like anyone would have to check more than once to find you, Quince! Stuart, John Quincy Adams, answer the roll!''

''Stuart, John Quincy Adams, present for duty, and accountable to none, Mister Colonel-General Howell, sir!'' Quince Stuart was the third tallest Company man, only 'berto Geronne, standing six feet three and a half inches, and Tam McGregor, at six feet four, didn't need to defer on that account to the six foot two inch, polished-copper-redheaded, all of the Company's present members had learned to watch out for Quince Stuart's easily roused temper, signaled only, if at all, by the lightning-blue glint of his deep-set eyes. The fact that that temper came with his imposing frame made it that much more lethal.

''And a damn good thing you are, too. Tanner, Kieran Anglim. Kiery Tanner, answer the roll!'' the Colonel shouted.

'' Kinda early in the day… never mind, Kieran Anglim Tanner, present and surely just as accountable as any of these other fine boyyos, Sol.'' the so named Company member replied, a lean young man with black hair worn to his collar, and a wary, bright blue gaze.

' That's what I'd have to guess, myself, Kiery. Tierney, Seamus Rafael! Rafe Tierney! Where is that black-haired tombstone?'' Howell asked, once more frowning.

'' Strollin' up right behind you, Solomon. Shouldn't let yourself get caught out that way, y'know.'' the man called for answered, a broad shouldered fellow, taller than Howell and everyone there except Tam, 'berto and Quince, with coarse, thick black hair, deep-set blue eyes and 'map of Ireland' features.

'' Shouldn't try it, Rafe, you really shouldn't. Tierney, Timothy Conal Niall, answer to the roll, and not the same way your black Irish cousin just did! '' the Colonel demanded.

'' Tierney, Timothy Conal Niall, practically right in front of you, Solomon, present and surely just as accountable for a black-Irishman as any man-jack here!'' answered Rafe's cousin, a strongly built fellow with thick. dark hair, back from a receding hairline and wide grey eyes.

''Surely, Timmy, surely. Torrance, Yishai David, Davy Torrance, answer to the roll as called on!" Howell shouted.

"Yeah, mean t' say, yes, Sir, Colonel Sol!" The next Company member, a wiry, black haired, bright eyed, laughing youngster from Missouri replied. "Torrance, Yishai David … in English, figure that would be plain ol' Jesse, present for duty as called on, Colonel. Figure I'm 'ccounted for, too, most

th' time, anyhow."

"Most of the time? Try makin' that all of the time from now on, Davy." Solomon Howell instructed. "Torrance, Robert Tierney, Robby, answer to the roll call!'' Howell went on with the roll.

''Robert Tierney Torrance, present as ordered for duty, Sir. And I'll stand a single Welshman up against a raft of Irish, Scots or worse, Sassenachs, any day of the week and twice as much of a Sabbath! Just you keep that in mind, Timothy-lad.'' replied the man who stepped up beside his distant cousin, Davy. This was another immigrant, from Ludlow in Wales, with a twinkle in his deep set dark eyes, a boxer's powerful arms, legs and shoulders, and heavy, coarse black hair.

''Robbie-lad, did you not heed the Colonel's deep dislike for quarrelin' and brawlin' in th' ranks, just now?'' Rafe Tierney asked, with a crooked grin.

''He did. That's why he's going to back off and let me finish the G-dforsaken roll!'' Howell bitterly insisted, glaring from Robby to Rafe and back again. '' Torrance, Ian Aubrey, answer to the roll call!''

'' Ian Aubrey Torrance, present for duty, Solomon-lad, and a sight for sore eyes y'are … '' the man called on answered, a, lanky, whip thin blond, with wide blue-grey eyes set in molded, handsome features, the latter which his colleagues had learned not to deem 'pretty', not in the Welshman's hearing.

'' I'll bet…Torrance, Isaac Abram, Zach, answer the roll!"

"Just as you say, Colonel, just as you say." Tall, dark, sharp featured Zach, the second oldest Torrance, Davy's older brother answered. " Torrance, Isaac Abram, present for duty as ordered, and at least as accountable as any man here."

" Yes, I guess you are." Howell agreed. " Traherne, D'arcy Stuart, answer the roll as called on."

"Traherne, D'arcy Stuart, present as called on for duty. Reckon I'm accounted for, should be by this time, or my Pa here would take a switch to my behind." The next man in line replied. This was the eldest son of one of the founding Company members, former General Adam Traherne, a tall, powerfully built dark auburn haired fellow with clear blue eyes set in a face that tended to freckle.

"I don't doubt for a moment he would. Traherne, Adam Elisha, sir, if you will answer to the roll, we're honored and grateful to have your continuining advice and counsel, sir.'' the Colonel requested the elder who'd been Napier Pascale's long time friend and sometime superior officer

''And old battle crows like me and Camp, Giles, Joshua, Alec and Jon are grateful to still have someone courteous enough to listen to us blather, Sol. Traherne, Adam Elisha, present and remarkably enough, still accounted for at this late date.'' Traherne was another elder here, who'd come at the urging of Napier Pascale's widow, a grizzled, weather beaten, tough looking old campaigner, whose sharp features and deep-set green-grey eyes still showed the self-possession and vigor of a career officer.

''Again, thank you, sir. West, Gordon Arthur, sir, if you will answer the roll, we're honored, as always, also, to have you here, sir.'' Howell asked.

'' Your training still holds true. And it's good, very good, to hear in a younger man, Solomon. West, Gordon Arthur, present and accounted for, prepared for duty, sir.'' West answered, with a gentlemanly smile and Howell wasn't sure if he saw it or not, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. This former general officer spent most of the years since the Conflict in the southwestern Territories, with the result that he looked and dressed very much like an old Indian-fighter. His wiry frame seemed to still be tough as leather, and his manner did not allow for much in the way of the younger fellow's boasting and bluster.

'' Thank you, again, sir. West, Morgan Aurelien, sir, if you will be good enough to answer the roll. We're likewise as honored to have you with us, Sir." The Colonel, just as respectfully requested.

" That was very well done, and well spoken, Solomon." 'Aury' West, a powerfully built older man, with coarse greying red hair and deep set bright grey eyes, and an tranquil manner, not unlike his brother's, answered. "West, Morgan Aurelien, present for duty and accounted for, with my thanks for your respect."

" No more than is right and proper, Sir. Whelan, Joshua Zadkiel, will you answer the roll, now, sir, and we'll be done for the time being, please?'' Howell asked.

'' Whelan, Joshua … Zadkiel… present… Whelan, Nathan Remiel… I am sorry, Solomon, Nate seems to be … seems to … '' the man addressed, a rangy, sandy-grey haired 'elder' here, replied, haltingly, blinking his bright hazel eyes and seeming somewhat bewildered. This was, Howell and all the others well understood actually the case with Whelan. A sabre wound had seen him honorably discharged after the fall of Atlanta, the scar just barely visible still, on the right side of his high forehead.

He was, in fact one of the youngest of the Confederate Army veterans in

the Company, who'd risen speedily in those ranks, readily becoming one of the so-called 'boy generals'. But that blow only temporarily impaired the Tennessean, and he might well have healed completely from it, and reentered the fray. It was the violent death of his only son, Nathan, that he never recovered from.

His son, Nathan died, in what were considered honorable but vastly tragic circumstances, on April 8th, 1865, hours before Lee's surrender. And it seemed likely to all who knew and cherished them both that this bereaved father never would. Solomon Howell, and most of his colleagues knew Joshua Whelan was no longer truly fit for command, anymore than he was consistently aware of his losses. For that reason, when it seemed kinder to allow the man his sad delusion, Nathan Remiel Whelan's name was added to the Company's roster. The elder Whelan was with the Company now, mainly to keep the bewildered old soldier safely among his genuine friends and brothers in arms.

'' I have Captain Whelan's report, already, sir. He's on detached duty at present, sir. You're not to bother yourself on that account, whatever. We heartily thank you for coming to answer the roll, sir. Company, stand down. But you will all wait here, at parade rest, while I have a brief, further word with Brigadier Whelan. '' Howell told the sadly devastated old soldier.

''That… that was only a brevet-promotion, in the heat of the action, … at where was it, let me think… Perhaps it was at First Wilderness… or perhaps it was earlier on… Solomon.'' the man in question answered, shaking his head, growing increasingly confused, again. '' And I hurried to get my Colonel's birds back on my shoulder-boards as quickly as I possibly could, believe me. But I don't understand, why… I don't seem to recall getting Nathan's … Captain Whelan's report, I mean to say… ''

''You've been extremely busy with tactical meetings and such, sir. You needn't bother yourself on that account, whatsoever. Captain Whelan took detached duty assignment, a very important one, that required his immediate attention, sir. Nothing to bother yourself over, I assure you, sir.'' Howell answered, surprising himself by the compassionate reaction this sadly bewildered old campaigner brought up in him, the polar opposite of his revulsion for Eugenie Pascale's madness.

''Colonel Howell, we'll take the brevet-Brigadier to the officer's mess with us, now.'' a soft spoken, Georgia accented voice suggested, turning Howell's attention from Whelan to another older Company man. This was Gabriel Dureau Colville. Whelan's long time physician and friend.

'' If there's nothing more you needed to consult with him on, that is.'' Noach Deveraux, at Colville's left added. Deveraux' molded features were warmed by heavy browed, deep brown eyes and a world weary smile. He'd been known, as much as his medical colleague to bitterly harangue officers, soldiers, patients, families and colleagues when he found their ideas, their practices or their demands out of line.

''No, thank you, sirs. Thank you all, very much. There's nothing more at this time. I'll come for your dispatches later in the day, if that's acceptable to you, Colonel Whelan, sir?'' the Colonel asked.

'' That… that will be fine… that will… that will … be… '' Whelan nodded, and with his former superiors, started to walk away.

''Thank you very much, once more, sir. Good day to you, sir.'' Howell answered.

'' Solomon… '' Whelan turned back for a moment.

'' Sir?'' the Company's actual commanding officer asked.

'' I'll be glad to … hear your report on your … latest reconnaissance… after while.'' Whelan said, looking and sounding more confused by the minute.

''Thank you kindly, sir. I'll be glad to report to you on what I found.'' Howell answered, hoping the man would turn away, again now and not ask him about Lee Henry Morrissey. Howell glanced at Brody Hamilton and, taking that signal, the younger Hamilton nodded and gently urged Whelan to walk with him. Sighing, Solomon Howell wondered, and not for the first time, what would become of the oldest of the Company, when Eugenie Pascale had accomplished her final, mad goal.

They aroused a sympathy and a sentiment in him that neither his beloved General's widow nor any of the other, younger, men or boys in the Company ever had. They had earned his respect, he considered. And they had it, as few other men still living ever would. And they could end being sentenced to prison, which in their case would be a death sentence, only slower. And Howell considered, it would be worse than the very real chance they could be sentenced to hang, as accessories, just as easily as these wild boys and men, still standing around waiting his latest orders.

''All right, me fine boyyos. All right then, listen up!'' Howell ordered them.

'' All y'all already knew b'fore I got back that Lee Henry and Neddy-boy lit on outa here. Well, th' word I just got is, they were up to no good, doin' it, an' I don't mean with them redheaded ladies in Chey, either, 'berto! They're turncoats, both of 'em, is th' word I just got. And I'm detailed to take care of them both. So nothin' gets done, an' no party, no sortie gets goin' here till that gets taken care of.

Now, I can and I will do that on my own, boys, unless some of you brave buckos are so wild for somethin' to get done, you'd want to come on along! Not all of you can come …In fact the most of you are gonna be stayin', to make sure Herself is … safe at all times, aside from whatever her houseboys do to keep her that way! Brody Hamilton is already taking on that unit, and some of you will be detailed as of this instant, and will obey his orders as if they were mine, to keep our 'old battle crows' safely out of the hands of our enemies, including any and all so called Unionist-damnYankee-sodbuster-'n' nigger lovin' lawmen!

Those old fellas, and I've heard all of y'all havin' your fun about them even riding with the Company, have more than earned all the respect I give 'em, Brody gives 'em, and all the respect you'd better damn all be givin' 'em from here on out! And in case you haven't been paying attention at all, I'm talking about Alec and Jon North, I'm talking about Beau Hamilton, Giles Boudin, Gordon West, Adam Traherne and I'm talking about Joshua Whelan! Those fine old men, those brave, good old men who gave their whole, entire lives for the Cause, they are not, repeat not ever to fall into enemy hands! We owe them better than that, a whole hell of a lot better than that, in fact! Is that absolutely clear?''

''Yes, sir.'' the younger men and boys muttered.

'' I didn't' hear you. I said, is that absolutely, absolutely clear?'' Howell repeated.

''YES, SIR!'' they chorused now, hearing the notes of rage and weariness and disillusionment in Howell's voice. All of them, even the youngest members of the Company knew by now, Howell's oddly sparked rages and his touchy pride in the defeated South, were flashpoints that boded no good for anyone even thinking of disagreeing with or discounting his orders.

And some of them guessed, listening and watching Howell now, that if Lee Henry Morrissey had not vacated his role as Company commander, Solomon Howell would be openly according that same touchy respect to him. And they were right. ''Now, I don't expect any trouble rounding up Neddy2, and not really much with his Daddy, either, not once we have that fool boy in hand, again.'' Howell went on.

'' So I'm taking no more than nine or ten of you along for that 'party', if that many.

And you may as well know, if you haven't guessed, that Herself wants them both dead as doornails before the Company sets so much as one little toe out on our final sortie. She believes they mean to betray us all. And if that's so, if those two are fool enough to turn on the Company, then the Company is damn well turnin' on them, and that is that! All y'all know that's what we all said to begin with, nigh onta three years back.''

''And what if the word you just got ain't right, Solomon?'' Tanner asked. '' What'd we do then?''

'' I follow my orders as I receive them, Kiery. And you follow yours the same damned way. No deserters, no runaways, and no flyin' trips home for the harvest or the plantin' either, is part and parcel of what we all agreed to, startin' out. And that means no more benders, too, Dev, before y' ask!''

'' I was afraid you were goin' to say that, Solomon. And it's a dang good thing, 'cause I've already plumb swore 'em off, prett nigh complete.'' Jackson answered, grinning.

'' Swear 'em off complete, Dev. Or you're stayin' here for the duration, keepin' a watchful eye on Herself. We have to keep to the word we gave, boys, or we're done.''

'' Well, that's so, boys. And well y'all know it.'' Rafe Tierney, as he was known in this 'Company' ,agreed now. '' It's your detail, Solomon, you go ahead on and pick who's to ride with you and who's not, now.''

'' Suits me. Rand, Seanny, Dev, Miller, Adam, Chris, Brady, Mickey, Tim, and Ian, you're with me. The rest stay here, till we're back and this damnable job of work is done. Then we all sortie one last time!''

'' Alright!'' most of the 'boyyos' chorused. But Geronne, Adamson, Hearkins and Jackson wanted to argue the choices their leader just made. And listening in, some of the others decided to try their views of who should ride or stay behind, again. They were all edgy, and they were all bored, waiting. And they were just as glad to argue, to quarrel or to slug it out with each other, at this point, as they were to go after their next and as they'd been told, their last 'quarry' on their 'final sortie'.

Howell was not to be moved, though. He kept the choices he'd made. And most of the 'boys' knew that would be the outcome. Finally, even the most eager for 'stirrin' up some trouble', agreed and abided by Howell's decisions. They had still their own quirky sort of loyalty to the dark, cold-eyed man who had been, until now, their second in Command. They'd followed him, Morrissey and Pascale clear across the country. And most of the 'boys', especially the ones who'd served in the War, still followed a well known soldier's/army-veterans policy of neither knowing, asking, nor caring what their 'superiors' wanted with these 'persons of interest'.

They'd followed their orders to the letter, seeking throughout the postwar South and then further and further into the western states and territories, for those named on a 'roll' Solomon Howell long since memorized, lest it be found by either potential victims or likely foes. They took their leader's word that these targets were indeed 'damn Yankee' enemies, or worse, Southern born and bred traitors to the Gloriously Lost Cause of their Fallen, Fair Confederacy. And traitors, these enraged, bereft, disenfranchised men wanted very much to believe, had to be the ones truly accountable for the 'Wrongful Death' of that would-be nation. After nearly four years' time, only sixty seven men and boys remained of those who first signed onto the Company.

Solomon Howell kept that 'roll' fixed in his mind, as well. He could have, if anyone asked, given a fully detailed accounting of each man or boy felled by their own bone-headed mistakes, by interfering damnYankee sodbusters, or Federal/Unionist lawmen. He also kept an account for himself, of every damn fool he'd had to 'take care of' when they 'lit out' on the Company, jeopardizing all, simply by rejoining a world that had no time or place for embittered ex-Rebels these days.

And now at least two more names had to be added to that second mental ledger, at least two, and maybe more. Solomon Howell was a man who much preferred to keep his own counsel, and he was doing so now. Young Neddy and Lee Henry could very easily become the worst enemies the Company had ever known, in the hands of the wrong Federal coppers and marshals, if in fact father and son had chosen to betray their erstwhile companions. The mad widow was right about that, at least, Howell knew. Neither father nor son could be allowed the chance, the temptation of selling the Company out , not now. And that likely meant she was right in saying both Morrissey's, son and father had to die, immediately they were found.

Solomon Howell had been more than ready, on his journey back from Fort Collins, to seize and accuse Tyler Pierce of likewise turning against the Company. He'd envisioned with no small glee the prospect of forcing the Creole to admit his guilt, and enforcing the lone punishment for a turncoat, summary execution. Now, he'd been cheated and would never have the pleasure of proving himself right about 'that damnably disruptive Spic'.

At least the Creole wouldn't endanger the Company any longer. Howell smiled grimly, thinking he'd have been inclined to reward, not destroy the stallion who'd 'taken care of Pierce' for him. But that left Howell with at least one other possible traitor to find and rid their ranks of. His own well paid informants at both Forts Kearney and Collins, reported that four men, were arrested and questioned, around the time the Company was tracking the sod-buster's train across Nebraska.

They also said all four had been arrested not once, but twice, first on drunken and disorderly charges in Lincoln, then on 'suspicion of interfering with a Federal investigation' at Kearney! One drunken encounter with one local marshal in Lincoln wasn't something Solomon Howell would have even considered a problem.

But in the wake of Lee Henry's possible defection, the report of a second, more serious charge, albeit one that was promptly dropped, didn't set well with the Company's acting-Commander. And Howell knew out of long practice, and deep-ingrained habits of self-preservation, exactly which of his Company, as it surely was now, had been detailed, first to Lincoln, and then to Fort Kearney, two months ago and a little more:

They were 'Seanny' Hoynes and 'Dev' Jackson. Their job had been to make contact with any Southron 'boys' traveling with those damn fool sod-busters. Then they were to find out which of those 'good old boys' were amenable to a little 'spying' for a price, and use those contacts to clearly identify 'persons of interest' on that wagon train. Then they were to relay that information to Morrissey and Howell, waiting near Kearney to carry out what should have been the Company's final sortie! Instead, the Company had only a rough description of the man they sought, Jess Harper, and found themselves soon thereafter with that man's near-identical cousin on their hands.

_So now, either I'm looking at two damn, drunken fools, and two just as damnable cowards, or I'm looking at four damned to Perdition traitors! And how any Southron who knows how we were betrayed, how we were gulled and how our whole, entire world was sold out from under us, in the Conflict, could turn around and turn traitor, now is beyond me! I' druther believe all four of you fellows plainly had your wits turned, than that you turned against the rest of us at this late date in our damn endeavors! _

_Great G-d, we're nearly done, now, Devlin! We're nearly done, now, Lee Henry! And counting you and Neddy2, we've lost twenty men and boys just getting to this point! Counting that wretched, puling, wailing towheaded whelp on the sodbuster's train and his Yankee-hellcat bitch of a momma, we've taken thirty two names off the roll of our enemies and worse, their insidious, detestable, treacherous so called Southron friends, who were, I don't doubt for a minute, knifing us all in the back, _

_all along! _

Never one to keep a harsh duty waiting, Howell rode out later that same day, along with the six he'd picked from the group. Mickey Stewart, Miller Nash, Chris Phillipsen, and 'Rand' Alexander, were his first choices because he was certain they were still with him and the Company, if not as solidly as Geronne, Adamson, or Moray and some others. They needed a firm hand on their reins, now, or they could bolt, with their 'job of work' still to be done and their last 'sortie' still waiting to be accomplished.

Tim Tierney, Brady Reid, Ian Torrance, and Adam North were, among the younger Company members, ones Howell trusted as much as he did anyone, because their motives matched his own, to get back at some of their many perceived enemies, and to take back some of pride the War left brutally offended. Dev Jackson and Seanny Hoynes he'd picked for wholly another reason, their loyalty to the Company, and to their grand endeavors had to be tested and entirely proven, immediately, to be solid or shattered, before any measures could be taken against them.

Howell hated any delay, and this one, at this late date, even moreso. And part of him detested the charge he'd been given. But a traitor was a traitor, after all, and the mad woman was his only source for the truth of the matter. No doubt both Lee Henry and 'Neddy2' as the boy was sometimes called would stringently deny Pascale's accusations. No doubt any traitor would deny that charge

But mad as she was, there was still no cause Howell could discern for the general's widow to lie at this point. She'd shown nothing but trust, respect and affection for her twin brother, in almost all circumstances, until today. She'd shown less of those things for her nephew, but had never said she suspected the boy, until now. Why would she out of a blue sky invent as

wild a tale as this one? She wouldn't. But someone else surely would, as it would certain sure suit his callous purposes . And that someone, a certain seemingly harmless, faithlessly ambitious dandy from Charleston had The Widow believing him now! So no matter what the truth of the present matter was, Solomon Antony Howell was the one who had to find it out.

Not only had he given The Widow his solemn word, he'd sworn to himself long since to make sure Heydon Palmerston Moray didn't rise any further in the Company, and certainly not on a pack of lies! Worse come to worse, if this wild story proved to be the truth, it would have to be Solomon Howell, and not Moray who saw to it that the truth of their treachery cost the remaining Morrisseys, Lee Henry and his son, Lee Edward, alike, very, very dearly.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER THREE Laramie, Wyoming, Sherman Ranch and Relay Station, the 1870s

''Well, that's that.'' Daisy smiled to herself, some hours later, when her large pile of mending had become several smaller piles of usable items again. She would have said she was very satisfied with her day's work, except it wasn't done, quite yet. Mike was home and despite all the chattery excitement from his fishing excursion, had his supper, his weekly bath and was sound asleep in the small room the boys had changed around for him, the room that had been Andy's.

Jess rode out into the hills, once his own daily tasks were seen to, taking his cousin's letter and saying he needed just 'a spell' up there to clear his head. Slim was keeping busy in the tack room, finishing some repairs, he'd said, keeping out of the way. Daisy was still sorting tiny skeins of embroidery thread she'd found much to her surprise and delight in a shipment of notions at the dry goods store in town, when the door to the front porch creaked open, and quietly closed behind her.

'' I saved you something from supper, Jess.'' She said, knowing his footfall, especially when he was trying so hard to 'soft foot it.' "It's in the Dutch oven, on top of the stove, dear.''

''Daisy, you '' Jess started and stopped, sighing, hanging his hat on one of the pegs by the door. ''You know, there was only one other person in my whole, entire life could always tell when it was me, comin' up behind them, and that was …momma. Reckon it's somethin' mothers just have?''

'' I reckon.'' Daisy said, turning to smile brightly at the surprised expression her borrowing from his way of talking put on the Texan's handsome face. [ _Oh, Jess, how I wish I'd known your dear momma .I think she would I know she would be so proud of you, right now!_ ] ''Now, come and eat and let's have that talk you promised me, before.''

'' Oh, right. Sure, Daisy.'' Jess frowned, and Daisy had to keep herself from giggling. It was that clear on his handsome face that Jess wished she'd forgotten the promise and the talk.'' And I'm sorry about… y'know, if I was … outa sorts, b'fore.''

'' I know that, dear. Come along, now, you must be hungry.''

''Yeah, I reckon.'' Jess left his jacket and gunbelt by the door, and followed Daisy to the kitchen table. Then, with another grin and a surprising gesture, he ushered Daisy to her seat there. Then Jess wasted no time 'getting' my grub' and a cup of coffee. Daisy sat quietly, enjoying Jess' healthy appetite as it campaigned triumphantly through tender to falling apart pot roast, carrots and potatoes, warm bread and crumbly peach pie.

[ _My boys work so hard! You can't even tell by looking that they're not half starved any longer, the way they seemed to be when I came here._ ] Daisy thought, smiling as she watched

'' So, Daisy. What'd you want to talk about?'''' Jess asked, with a deceptively mischievous tone of voice and the ghost of a familiar sparkle in his eyes, when he'd washed the last bite of pie down with more coffee.

''You, you scoundrel!'' Daisy laughed. '' And I'll start with what I think might be the easier part for you. Why didn't you read your cousin's letter, dear? And why on earth would you hide it, if you didn't even know for certain what he wrote?''

'' Jemmy's … always been … a mischief maker, Daisy. He's always been one to love a game played or a good joke. '' Jess insisted. '' So, I … sometimes its been hard to know when he was foolin', and when he wasn't. That's why I didn't read it, reckon. Why I … Daisy, I dunno why I hid it… No, that ain't so, either. 'm sorry, don' want to lie to you, ever… Jemmy… was so much around when I was little… in east Texas… not all th' time, but a lot. We spent a lot of time together, back then.''

'' So you were friends, as well as family.'' Daisy noted.

'' Yeah. His momma was a first cousin with mine… His Daddy was second cousin to my own… An'… those were good times, some of th' best, I'd figure. Th' War… well, it changed all that, o' course.''

''Yes, of course it did. At dinner you said your cousin left Texas for the North, before the War began?"'

''Yeah.'' Jess sighed. '' His momma… well, some of her people were Methodist, but some were Quakers… an' she followed that way, an' … ''

'' Your cousin followed his mother's beliefs? Which would have made it very hard …''

'' Not hard, Daisy, not hard, it would've made it just about impossible for Jemmy an' his Daddy to stay in Texas, or North Carolina, or even up in Virginia with his momma's people. An' Jemmy told me, an' our cousin Cooper, the three of us bein' friends then, what him and Cousin Stephen, his Daddy… meant to do. But, ''

Jess shook his head, remembering how earnestly the three young cousins had promised their friendship, even more than their kinship, would never change, ever. ''Daisy, Jemmy was such a wide-eyed kid, then! We all were full of high ideals an' such. I was too, even though all that came three, four years after… after Th' fire,

an' all.''

''When you thought you'd seen, you'd learned the very worst the world had to show you.'' Daisy said, so gently Jess knew before looking that tears were shining in her clear grey eyes. '' So, Francine's news, as wonderful as it is, together with this letter from your cousin… Jemmy, only added to the way thinking about your family… thinking about what happened to them has been haunting you, again, lately?'' the widow asked. ''Because, to a certain way of thinking, you lost him, in the War, as well?''

Jess knew he was frankly staring at Daisy for a long moment now. He couldn't help it, the kindly woman seemed to see right through him, without even trying, and more and more often.

'' Daisy, I don't know how you do that! You take what's roilin' round in my head like a dust-storm and make it set still to be looked at … in th' only way that can make any sense at all!''

'' I'm just a sensible old soul, I suppose.'' Daisy smiled, and patted Jess' hands, still folded around the coffee cup he'd set back on the table between them. '' And I've had some experience with losses. But please, dear, don't mistake me, Jess, I know none of them were as terrible or as horridly sudden as your own.''

'' There ain't any comparin' between …things like that, Daisy.'' Jess said, and shrugged, taking her hands and squeezing them warmly as a way of sending her some wordless comfort. '' How could there be? An' b'sides, I know you surely must've felt it was sudden, when you got word of your son… after Chickamauga… An' b'sides, how could anybody say it was worse to lose somebody slow or sudden?

Naw, what you went through, Daisy, I'd never, ever be th' one to say you had it any easier than I did. Why, that'd be like me sayin' my folks were worth more n' yours, or anybody else's! An' even if I had the locos bad enough to say that… Momma an' Daddy both'd reach down from Glory and whup me a good'un for it!''

Daisy gave her middle son another smile, now, feeling terrifically proud of Jess' compassion and his courage. ''Well, no one can say what a life is worth, not truly, dear. But I … Jess, will you tell me something more about that time, about what brought it up for you again, now? Was it spring, Jess? Was it this time of year when…'' .

'' When we got burned out?'' Jess asked, lowering his blue-sky gaze for a moment, then bringing it back to her kindly face.

''Truth of it is, Daisy, sometimes I can't remember parts of it, not th' weather, not th' crops, not if we were breakin' horses or foalin' em ''

Then, once more the Texan turned his eyes away from Daisy, and daring whatever reaction he might have, she reached for his face, and lifted it till they were once more, eye to eye. She knew she already understood part of Jess' current trouble. He hadn't even bothered to deny memories of his family's deaths were coming back to jolt him lately. She didn't need a medical degree or one of those heavy, expensive microscopes she'd seen in a Cheyenne druggist's window, to see that. Her middle son's handsome face was drawn, his eyes were burdened as heavily as a miner's mule-team by dark circles, his whole manner edgy, apprehensive.

[ _Is this the way my Jess, my middle son looked when he first got here? Is this the case-hardened, on the drift gunfighter Slim and Jonesy and Andy first met? ] _Daisy wondered.

_[ No, no, I know that disillusioned, wary man is gone for good, thanks to those three, Mose, Mort Corey and little Mike, and maybe, thanks to G-d, of course, and maybe, I can hope, some thanks to me. This is just the mask that dreadfully lonesome drifter left behind. I can see my son behind it, I can hear him. And G-d willing, I can still reach him back there, too. So, lets get going here, Jess. Let's get 'er done_.]

Daisy dropped her fingertips from Jess' chin and took his hands in hers, ignoring the fact for now that the young Texan's long boned hands dwarfed her own.

'' And sometimes you remember that terrible time so clearly, so entirely, its all you can think of. And so, the new letter from dear Francine, even though she was sending such lovely news, came when you already had those awful memories stirring. And Jess, I know from my own experience that even truly fine news like that can trigger entirely contradictory feelings.

When I began to get letters from my old home, from friends there, sometimes it was all I could do not to start sobbing, not to start hurting all over again, because none of those letters were, or ever would be from my dearest ones. And it kept me up, more than one night, I can tell you. And that is what you've been going through, just lately, dear. That is what has been going on, one night after another, the past few weeks, keeping you up, or, more rightly I would say, waking you up. '' Daisy suggested strongly. Keeping her grey gaze fixed on his face.

'' Daisy, you're not going to tell me now that you can see through the walls around here?'' Jess asked her, startling, his eyes wide, his expression half alarmed and half amused.

''No, dear, but I wouldn't be much use as a mother, would I, if I couldn't hear through walls? And that would need to be especially true when my boys have problems they haven't come to me with, yet. So, now, please, Jess, talk to me about this. Tell me all of this trouble. And don't forget to tell me, dear, why you haven't brought this to me, until I asked you to, tonight. Go on, Jess.'' Daisy insisted, keeping her grip on his hands, glad to find he wasn't pulling back, or pulling away.

But now Jess' eyes darkened as suddenly as storm clouds blocking out a summer's sky, not with anger, with something Daisy didn't think she'd ever seen there before, unease so profound it was well on it's way to becoming full fledged dread. Something wasn't just troubling Jess these days, something was on the verge of panicking him.

[ _And that by itself, is surely something Jess would never choose to admit, to himself, much less to people whose trust he cherishes, whose trust he needs_.] Daisy considered, seeing that the young Texan wanted to look away again. Not saying a word, she shook her head, refusing unequivocally to allow it.

Jess swallowed hard, thinking he'd rather face a headlong charge into

three or four divisions of Federal artillery right now, than Daisy's resolute, encouraging smile. But it was only with her smile and her unwavering trust Jess knew he could go on with this 'talk' for even a second.

''Well, now, reckon that last part's likely th' easiest an' hardest.'' Jess finally said, in an even more muted tone.

'' Jess, talking about grief like this, like yours, is never easy. How in the world could it be?'' Daisy asked, spreading her hands wide, though she was reluctant to let his hands go.

Jess nodded his agreement, then hesitated again, frowning and chewing unhappily at his lower lip, as if that could keep the words in. It couldn't, he lost that skirmish and went on.'' I mean to say – it's pretty simple, really, why I ain't brought this up, b'fore you asked me.'' He finally told her. ''Cos I – don't think you're gonna end up bein' glad you asked, exactly. I don't think – this is anything you'd want to hear. An' hope to G-d it's nothin' like what you expect. And – I know you want this to help – ''

''I want whatever will help you, dear. '' Daisy answered quietly, reaching for Jess' hands again. To her dismay though, this time, the Texan looked alarmed and pulled away, as if afraid his touch would harm her.

'' 'Course you do. Only Daisy, you know sometimes there just ain't anything will help th' way things are, or th' way they're goin', sometimes there's just nothin' to be done. An I – think, certain sure, this is gonna turn out one of those times. I think mebbee there really is such a thing as – what's meant to be, like my granddaddy used to preach about, down around Nacogdoches. Some things are – '' Jess shook his head, as if he didn't want to believe the words he spoke, and had to.

'' - meant to come down, just th' way they do. What'd Granddaddy Nate always call it - Predestination? Funny how words like get mired down in a fella's mind, an' stick there, for just about – ever, ain't it? But he b'lieved that way of lookin' at things, to be Th' Foundin' Truth of Th' whole, entire world an' all, Granddaddy Nate'd say. Things were set out from th' Foundation of th' World, he'd say, specially things that happen when a fella heads down a real wrong trail: like I done.''

[ _And now I'm hearing that you believe a soul is preordained for Glory or Perdition? And I'm supposed to believe you think you're in for the latter, not the former? Jess, what in all the world could turn your mind around this way? And how do I – how can I help you see the Jess I see?_ ]

Jess turned his blue-sky gaze away from her again as he finished, and dropped the level of his voice so she only just caught what he was saying. Then he turned, pushed his chair back and stood up, in one fluid motion.

'' 'm sorry, Daisy, I'm not sure this was such a danged fine idea, after all.'' The young Texan said, shaking his head despondently.

''But you promised me we'd talk when you got back.'' Daisy reminded the Texan, taking on her schoolteacher's manner as she had with Slim. ''And you've never broken a promise to me, Jess.''

'' Well, sure I have!'' Jess exclaimed, almost laughing, nearly smiling at her. '' Why, that happened all th' time when you were settlin' in here at first! Daisy, I acted like a great baby, sometimes, then, as if I was younger than little Mike! ''

'' But you haven't broken your word of honor, once you gave it to me, not even once in all this time, Jess Harper. That being the case, you sit right back down and talk to me.'' Daisy insisted.

Looking as dejected as Mike, when the boy was told to finish his schoolwork, or his chores, before running to play, Jess still obeyed her, sitting down again, slumping in the chair and muttering. ''Yes ma'am.''

''Go on, Jess.'' Daisy urged him, nodding and smiling, and terrified for him, inside. She didn't reach for his hands again, even though the young Texan had them back on the tabletop, alternately wringing his left hand with his right and vice versa. Jess was afraid, but not of her, Daisy thought. He hadn't lost his trust of her and that was a plus in this intricate situation.

[ _But Jess has lost or is surely in the midst of losing his belief in the trust I have in him. He seems to think I should be as wary of him as he once was_

_of 'the World'. But, oh, my dear, I learned how much it hurts to distrust 'the World' a long while ago, when I went through and survived my own crisis. But you, Jess are all tangled up in nightmarish memories of the past, yours and your family's. And for whatever reason now, that past is reaching out _

_to pull you back into its darkest days and nights again. _

_Well, I won't let you fall! _]

Jess looked at her so intently now Daisy felt as though he was going to pick up one of Mike's broken and battered lead pencils out of the cup on the sideboard, and sketch her portrait on the tabletop. He seemed to want to memorize her, sitting there and if that was what reassured Jess now, she could surely give him that much. Daisy held herself and her own whirring thoughts steady for her middle son and gave him her most patient smile, and waited, feeling anything but patient or steady.

''Daisy, y'know, makin' you pull this out of me like some kinda bad tooth, it just ain't right. I shouldn't make you work this hard. I should just tell you Th' G-d's honest truth of th' matter an' be done with it. 'So here it is: '' Jess shrugged, looking as if he'd rather slide through one of the cracks in the floorboards right now than go on.

'' Y'see, I don't have to wonder, not a bit, I know what's goin' on. I do. I know.'' Down that blue sky gaze went again, examining every join and crack in the small tabletop. But once more, Daisy wordlessly lifted his chin with her fingertips, until they were eye to eye, again.'' I just figured it's clear as day what's got me all out of kilter, bollixed up, thrown down,' like some bandy-legged calf, bawlin' for its ma, loud enough to raise th' roof."

''Well, part of it is, you already admitted you've been struggling with these old nightmares and memories of when your family in Texas died. And memories like those would trouble _anyone_ in their right mind, Jess.''

Suddenly, Jess stared at Daisy, wide eyed as a scared little boy, as if she'd abruptly begun, swearing or shouting, or speaking in tongues. Then he began to dry wash his hands, rubbing each knuckle in turn, as if it ached. And, now, following another instinct, Daisy reached over, gripped both Jess' hands again and held on with all the strength she could pour into her own.

'' Jess, talk to me! Answer me, please, dear.'' Daisy cried out, terribly alarmed and wondering how she'd managed to make things abruptly worse. But he hadn't pulled his hands out of her grasp, the greyeyed widow saw, deciding to consider that a positive sign. The young Texan slowly relaxed, watching her face, fiercely holding her hands, as if he expected the gentle woman to vanish, at any moment.

''What's frightening you?'''' What?'' she asked, pouring all the love and fear she had for Jess, all the trust and hope she had in him into that one quiet word.

'' It started to happen back then too, y'see.'' Jess said, wanting to look away but wanting to hold her kind grey gaze as long as he could, as if to memorize it, before it could disappear. ''It started to happen, all that year after – after Th' fire, an' all. Couldn't sleep, couldn't taste what I et, couldn't stand … t' be anywhere, couldn't hardly stand still!

Th' sun in th' sky, th' candles in th' window, th' fire in th' grate were too bright t' look at! Th' wind in th' hills, th' wheel on' th' mill creek, th' voices around me, even whisperin' in church were too loud! An even th' grass in th' dooryard, th' quilt on m' bed… th' clothes on m' back all rubbed me pretty near raw! … ever' thing hurt, ever' thing, ever' body, no matter what it was or what they did! I … Sometimes I thought I'd jump plumb outa my skin, then!" The young Texan exclaimed, now, as Daisy kept her hold on his hand.

"And sometimes, some days while you were still in the worst shock, in the worst grief of your life; some days, Jess, you just about wished that you could." Daisy finished somberly, then smiled warmly and nodded, as Jess' eyes grew wide one more time. "Yes, dear, I know exactly how that feels."

"Figure you do." Jess agreed with a calmer manner and tone. "Figure you'd have to know how that was… how that is, with losin' your husband an' before that … your boy, in th' War.

Daisy… I know you want me t' go on with all this tellin'… And I will, I gave you my word… I give it again… But there's somethin' you an' me ain't ever talked of… An' we' gotta… We have to… " Jess sighed, glanced away, and looked back, his eyes bright with tears now, his voice full of sorrow and warm with compassion.

"There was that time… on th' stage …we were s'posed t' be comin' back home … from somewhere… mebbee Cheyenne… An' one of th' men on th' stage said he fought in th' west… in th' War… said he was at … Chickamauga… An' you remember, you told him that's … where your … where your son … "

" Where my son fought and died? Well, of course I do! We had such a time, such an interesting journey… " Daisy smiled, shaking her head at the Texan. "We had to spend the night in … Jubilee, wasn't it, Jess? But we got home alright. Is there something I'm forgetting?"

"Interestin', that's sure one way to put it." Jess almost laughed, and then grew somber again. "But no, there's somethin' I never told you … An' I gotta … Daisy, … th' 8th Texas, we fought all through central an' east Tennessee, back in' th' summer an' fall, '63. We fought… under General Bragg. We were at … Chickamauga. An' so … so was your son.

An' that's somethin' else that's been showin' up in m' nightmares… just lately, you see. We rode down on so many Yankees. We rolled up their lines like some kinda blue carpets… An' chased 'em nearly inside Chattanooga, too. But , Daisy, I … I couldn't even say this t' you, ceptin' you've got every right t' know. I could've… I could've been th' one that … " Jess finally looked back at the table and kept his gaze there, dropping his voice yet again. " … killed your son."

"No, Jess. You couldn't have, truly." Daisy told him with such conviction that it won her Jess' bright gaze again. " You never got a telegram from your War Department during those terrible years, did you, Jess?"

"No, ma'am. Why?" Jess quietly asked her, wondering at her calm self-assurance.

"Because if you had, you'd know how much … really unwanted detail they tended to give, after the fact. And then, of course, there were the letters his father and I got from his commander. " Daisy answered, keeping her eyes directly on Jess.

" I learned from them more than any mother ever wants to know … But now, I'm grateful. Because I know my son wasn't fighting your Texans, that day, Jess dear. As I recall now, his unit was with General Thomas. They were holding the line so that a great many others could reach safety. They were all genuine heroes, even without one single, solitary Texan in sight."

"They were that, surely." Jess wholeheartedly agreed, nodding. "You should be proud."

" Well, I am, very proud, of him and of you, for telling me this." Daisy told him. "So, now you can at least let go of that nightmare, can't you, Jess?'

"Yeah." Jess agreed, and sat back for a minute, sighing again. Sensing his need to pull back just a bit from a difficult moment, Daisy let go Jess' hands. But she wouldn't take her eyes from his, and the grey eyed widow was almost surprised when Jess kept his gaze on her, too.

" …getting' this figured, aren't y now, Daisy?" The Texan demanded, rubbing at the back of his neck now, feeling himself halfway between stay-put and cut n run." Ya know what's goin' on with me, don't ya? Ya get just exactly what kinda trouble I'm in, right, an' just how much of a boondoggle I'm buildin' up here?

Slim had t' just about hog tie me earlier on, just t' get me talkin'. An' still, I run Trav up inta th' hills for some space t' think in, an' I don't do a bit of thinkin'! Th' hills start feelin' crowded! Th' air in my face is more like a slap! The sky seems so bright it nearly pained my eyes, th' wind in th' trees so loud, it dang near knocked me over! Th' only difference I can tell is I've got enough sense t' know how good th' gru… Th' supper you saved tasted! Reckon I finally learned t' be grateful for something! But…"

"You're still just about to jump out of your skin?" Daisy suggested, cocking her head and looking closely at her middle son's face, when Jess seemed to run out of 'steam.

"Jess, wait a moment, dear. Let me see if I do understand this. You're drawing a close comparison between the way you feel now, and the way you reacted when your home was destroyed, and so much of your family died. And even though you say yourself there are definite differences now, all these angry, confused, bitter feelings have you so worried, it makes them seem just that much worse. And I know, dear, I truly know how courageous a man you are. But it also has you frightened. Jess, am I right?"

"Time was I would've said nothin' scared me, ever. An' it was no truer then." Jess said miserably, shaking his head. " Cause you're right, 'm just about scared silly, scared senseless, more like! I've got this feelin' like I should be takin' off for th' hills, before I just blow t' pieces! I've got this feelin' like I should be sendin' you an' Slim an' Mike all t' th' nearest earthworks ya can find so ya don't get hit by th' grape an' canister when that blow up happens! An' that, right there, just shows you just how crazed … "

"Please, go on, Jess dear." Daisy urged him, regaining her hold on his strong left hand, while Jess combed his right hand through his hair and rubbed his neck, as what he'd said seemed to catch him up. "You're doing so well. You're making me very proud of you, again."

" Daisy, you won't… " Jess started and stopped and shook his head again. "Naw, you won't let on about all … this, t anybody. I know that. Shouldn't even ask you."

" I won't. Of course, I won't, Jess. I won't even mention this to you again, without your permission, dear. And not to any other living soul.'' Daisy quickly, gladly promised.

'' Yeah, I know that. It's just you've got that way of either drawin' out or peggin' down what's rattlin' around in my head, a lot of th' time. It can catch a fella off guard, y'know. See, it's just like some folks probably always figured was gonna happen with me, soon or late." Jess told her glumly, looking away, squeezing his eyes shut, and speaking so quietly she had to lean forward to hear him clearly.

"It's …'Daisy … 'm … just plain goin' -- crazy. I know that's it. It's just ol' Jess here, just plain losin' it, just finally goin' round th' bend from tip to toe, goin' purely… crazed, just like I started t' do after we got … burned out. Only now, there's no sense at all to it, is there? At least back then, seems like I might could've had some reason for it!"

"You had all the reason in the world, I'd say." Daisy agreed and then went on determinedly. "Which is how I know you're wrong, dear. You're not going crazy You're absolutely sane, in fact. No, no, Jess. Look at me, now. Look at me. '' Daisy insisted, and got her wish, when he opened those deep set blue sky eyes to the size of a two bit piece laid on it's side.

"Now, listen to me, Jess. Listen." She said, reaching for his right hand and smiling when Jess put both his hands in hers. He swallowed again and opened his eyes wider. "And I'll tell you how I know what you've become so worried about just isn't so. "

"Daisy, ya mean ya believe …" Jess protested, but stopped when his surrogate mother shook her head.

"No, dear, I mean precisely what I said. I know you're as sane as the day is long." Daisy answered, squeezing his hands. "And the way I know is from what you've just told me, and from something else that I've never told you or Slim. During the War, like so many others, I did all I could to help the boys who were sent home badly wounded or terribly maimed. And often cases, so many of them were not just physically hurt but, terribly broken and lost deep inside by what they'd seen, what they'd done and what happened to them in the fighting. And I think you must have known any number of boys who were hurt that way too, down where no one could see it, didn't you, Jess?"

"Yeah, surely." Jess nodded and crooked his head to one side, studying Daisy. "An' knowin' you, Daisy, you must've tried all the more t' help boys like that."

"I did. We all did. And sometimes, it seemed as though they could … come back to themselves, with a great deal of caring, compassion and no little prayer." Daisy sadly nodded, her wide grey eyes shining with tears. "And other times, Jess, no one could reach those boys, ever. No one could reach them when they fell into that darkness. No one could calm them when they started their terrible, uncontrollable raging. They may as well have been deafened or blinded.

They neither heard nor saw anyone around them, any longer. They were lost to themselves, and everyone who loved them, as surely as if they'd died in one battle or another. But they never once, not in my hearing, questioned whether or not they were sane. To them, it was always the rest of the world that had gone entirely mad. And at the time, I'm not sure I would have disagreed that strongly. But my point is, they never worried for an instant that I saw or heard, if they were losing their minds. Now, Jess, do you understand what I'm saying?"

" Figure mebbe I do." Jess agreed, feeling more hopeful than he had all evening. " It's like you're sayin' if a fella's still askin' the question, is he in his right mind or not; then he's probably all right?"

"Exactly!'" Daisy smiled. "There you see, you're not such a bad pupil after all, dear. But there's one more piece to my answer. So, listen to me."

" Yes, ma'am." The Texan answered, with a fraction of his usual crooked grin.

"Jess," Daisy said, keeping her hold on his hands. "The boys I was just talking about, and the ones that you knew who could never be healed, had one more thing in common. And it's something I know you've never come close to knowing. And this may sound harsh, but Jess what they had that you don't have is pure despair. Those boys gave up on themselves. And it may be they felt they had nowhere to turn. And it may be they had no one to talk to, or trust any longer.

But, still they surrendered to the darkness within, the darkness we all know at one time or another. But that despair, that surrendering, dear, that's something I honestly don't believe is possible to you. And it's the fact that you're sitting here talking to me right now that tells me I'm absolutely correct about that! You didn't give up as a boy under incredible pressures to do just exactly that, Jess. And you're not giving up now, or you wouldn't be sitting here with me tonight."

Jess shrugged now and shook his head at the grey eyed, silver haired widow woman who'd made herself his mother in so many ways. " Well, Daisy, I did promise we'd talk."

"Jess Harper, are you making light of what I just told you?" Daisy asked, with a grin.

"Naw, wouldn't do that." The Texan gave her half a grin back. " Figure you'd whup me but good if I tried. An' Daisy, I'm real glad t' hear you got it figured I'm not losin' m' mind. But mebbee I should finish tellin' ya what started me fussin' an' fumin' this way. Mebbee I should tell ya more about Francie an' … our brother Danny, how we were right after, an' how we've all been since th' fire…An' mebbee I shouldn't, cause you might change your mind!"

'' Your brother? Jess… Francine said something to me, just in passing while she was here but… " Daisy stopped, still watching her middle son closely. " She said he was the only one of you three who was injured back then. And as much as I'd love to know all you can tell me…"

"Daisy, you've pulled the cork right outa th' bottle, now. Figure I'm bound to keep talkin' now, till I run dry. But I can't… All this time an' I still can't talk about the littles, Th' kids who didn't make it back then.

Danny an' Francie an' me… we got out. Momma an' Daddy, three of our sisters an' one more brother, they didn't. They couldn't. An' Danny, he fell… an' prett near busted his back. So, th' boy never walked again, an' never will." Jess sighed, shoulders hunched, eyes darkening with sorrow.

"How terribly sad." Daisy commented, keeping her grip on his hands. " I'm so very sorry, Jess dear. Please, go on. Please, you said you had more to tell me. Please, don't stop now, when you're doing so well. You said you would tell me how these nightmares got started."

''Daisy, you – '' Jess started to protest, holding on, but shaking his head, He stopped and went quiet, as soon as she gave him her mildest possible frown.

'' Are you going to answer me or not, young man?'' Daisy asked, taking a slightly sterner tact, now that what seemed the worst of it was out in the open air between them.

'' You can't just come into my kitchen, you know, and tell me that one of my sons is losing his mind without telling me why you would say or think any such thing. I won't put up with that, not even, no, especially not from one of those same sons of mine, even if he's foolish enough to be saying it about himself. Do I make myself clear? I expect you to answer me now, as fully and honestly as you always have.'''

Abruptly Jess managed to crack a wary smile at last, and shook his dark head. '' Wow, I'm glad I was never in one of your classes!''

'' You're probably right. I would've had you staying after school a great deal, I'm afraid, if this is the way you answered in class.'' Daisy gave him a taut smile, feeling very much in teacher mode.

'' Never did, if I could help it, when there was a school. That mostly came earlier and – later, though.'' Jess admitted, but she noted he was somewhat less tense, less afraid now, sitting back in his chair, a bit.

'' Alright, now you managed to change the subject for a good ninety seconds or more, Jess dear. Back you go now, to the questions I was asking then. '' Daisy insisted, but in a softer tone of voice, deliberately returning to her role as his surrogate mother.

'' Daisy. Likely there isn't anybody else walkin' the world anymore could get me to talk this out. '' Jess admitted, leaning forward, to capture her right hand with his left. And I'm still not sure how much of it you're gonna like hearin' .''

''But you're talking, and you're trying, you're not rushing back out the door. And all of that is a very good start, if you ask me, anyway. Go on, Jess. Tell me why you've been torturing yourself with these ideas? At least tell what started you thinking this way.''

'' I'm not out-and-out sure. Daisy, honest. It's not like I asked 'em all polite to come over for supper, one night and then put 'em up nice and cozy right under m' pillows! An' it's not like anybody meant to stir it all up again. It's not like I think she meant it to get to me this way, anyhow. Cause Francie didn't! '' Jess insisted, and in the next instant, just when Daisy feared he'd become angry again, he gaped at her and looked absolutely contrite.

_My word! Am I going to have to ask my boys' relatives to stop writing them letters?_ Daisy wondered. ''Francine?'' Daisy spoke her thought, knowing she had to get to the root of this trouble, even if some minor level blame did attach to her middle son's surviving family. ''Jess, wait a moment. I remember, and this was nearly two months ago now, you got a whole series of letters from your sister. Some of them took a while longer than the others to get here. Some of them came fairly quickly. But a few came a long while after you got her wire her wire saying she and Ben are getting settled into their new home, at last.

I remember you read part of one to me, where Francine was saying she hadn't been able to talk about some things while she was here. That she still found she could more easily write than speak about some things. And what she meant, was that she could more easily write you than speak with you about your family, about the time they died, wasn't it? Isn't that what she wrote to you about, dear?''

''Yeah.'' Jess answered, as if he hoped to leave it at that lone, empty sounding word. Then Jess surprised Daisy one more time, because she feared he'd rush out the door again. Instead the Texan stood up, picked up his coffee cup, and gestured for the silver haired widow to follow him back to the parlour.

There, he took up his favorite rocking chair, braced his legs against the comforting motion and waited for Daisy to sit on the lovely bentwood rocker he and Slim had found for her at a neighbor's auction sale.

" Daisy, I'm not proud of th' way I've been actin' lately, not for a minute. An' I can't make it make any sense at all, either. So I'm not expectin' you to think it does. But … I get this really, really good news from Francie an' stead of sendin' up skyrockets, I'm down in th' dumps! I get word from Jemmy, first time in mebbee three years or four, an' I play little-kid games, hidin' his letter. 'm not sleepin', not even restin' much, lately.

Every night for a week I've gone out t' th bunkhouse an' set there, just countin' th' chinks in' the wall! An' then, 'm jumpier than a long tailed cat an' meaner tempered than a too early rousted-out grizzly! An' it's not like I don't know that getting' no sleep don't help with m' temper. An' it's not like I can rightly blame Francie for what I'm doin' here, cause I can't an' I don't!"

''Jess, I don't blame Francine, either. Of course I don't. She loves you dearly. Noone who's seen her with you could doubt that for even an instant. ' Daisy told him. ''But it was reading and rereading her letters that somehow triggered all these awful thoughts for you, wasn't it?''

''Daisy…'' Jess said, ten times more quietly and contritely, than he'd been a moment before. '' m' sorry. I keep sayin' that, don't I ? Reckon you won't go on takin my word for it''

'' Of course I will! Now, you're going to go on with that story, Jess, but

first you're going to listen hard and well to me, young man. You're right, I understand that kind of grieving, that horrible, devouring remorse, wishing I'd gone in their place, of course! I went through it, and I came out the other side. And when I did, I felt my struggles were, out of a rather grey, unfriendly seeming sky, rewarded. And you know how. You and Slim and Mike needed me here, and rather badly, better than that, you wanted me here, and that's so very much better than only being needed!

And somehow, Mike and I , Slim and you have made a family that loves this place, this home of ours, and each other, a family that does understand and care for and trust one another. A family that of course includes young Andy and Jonesy. And sometimes I think it includes Mose, and Mort Corey, as well! But it's our present, our future, Jess.

What you're going through, just lately, if you ask my opinion is a kind of fight, a quarrel, between loving this new family, your present and mourning the other, your past. And that sort of conflict can surely cause one perplexity. That's not going crazy, dear, that's only realizing one's changed. And you have, you're not that ten and a half year old orphan. You're not the fifteen year old who ran off to a real War. And if I understand what both you and Slim tell me, you're not the same drifter who came here a few Years ago. Are you?''

'' No, reckon, reckon 'm not them anymore. '' Jess shrugged.

''Well, good, that's a start. Now, come sit down, I'll make up another pot of coffee this is going to take some while longer, I see.''

'' You, Daisy, you for certain sure don't figure I'm getting crazed, then?'' Jess asked, looking and sounding like a very little boy, in great need of her reassurance.

'' Not even the tiniest bit.'' She smiled back up at the tall, dark haired Texan. '' And you're not going to, Jess Harper, not on my watch. Now, you said you wanted to go to your momma's family in east Texas… Was there some reason you couldn't, right away?''

Jess looked away, so sharply at that question that Daisy knew she'd touched on an even more painful element to this story. And he was still biting his lower lip, still not meeting her eyes when he turned back again. [ _So you're still not ready to tell me this part, alright, that's alright, Jess, dear, we'll get to it, when you are._ ]

'' Dunno, mebbee there was, some kinda mix-up, mebbee there wasn't any money… to pay our way. We did go, for a spell. And that was fine, that was so fine, Daisy. 'ceptin' it was the second to last year, b'fore Th' War an' all.'' Jess finally said, when he knew she'd just stay there waiting on his answer.

''But I got us ahead of the story, just now… didn't I? Now, Jess, please, I want you to tell… to share with me the memories that have been hounding you for so very long. What brought you back, closer to being alive, again, Jess, dear? I know it took a huge struggle for me, to pass that Valley, Did someone help you?'' Daisy asked, still clasping his hand in hers.

''Well. there was that day I just decided to rest my bones a spell, in that clearin' up the hill from here, and this big blond fella with a rifle comes up and sticks that ol' rifle right in m' face.'' Jess gave her a half smile and a quicksilver wink. '' Figure you might've run into that same fella, around here, Daisy, seems to think he owns th' place or somethin'… ''

'' I might. But that was quite a long while after your terrible loss, dear. What did you do, what helped you at the time?'' Daisy chuckled.

''Well that was pretty near Th' most surprisin' part. I like I said b'fore, when I was thirteen, nearly fourteen, we caught a break, Danny an' Francie an' me. We got on back to east Texas, back to Nacogdoches. And we hadn't seen Aunt Beth, Cooper, Jeffy or Uncle Danny for a spell. Course they came on out for Th' services an' all. But Aunt Beth was in a bad way, she an' momma grew up real close like, and Uncle Danny he was pretty worried for her.

Aunt Beth she helped Francie with Th' goins on, Uncle Danny he walked all up and down Th' county with me, and sometimes we'd just ride, Uncle Danny an' Coop, an me. And they had a preacher come, one who'd known my momma, 'stead of th' circuit rider… And he read her favorite 'th' one all 'bout mountin like eagles. ''

''_But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.'' _Daisy began to recite the versefrom Isaiah_. 'They shall mount up with wings, as eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint'_. I've always loved and found a great deal of comfort from that, myself. ''

''Yeah, momma loved it, too. '' Jess nodded, sadly, hearing Jenny Harper recite the verse almost at the same time. ''And then I went and wrecked all th' plans they were tryin' to make!''

''Why, what do you mean, Jess?'' Daisy asked, surprised as he got angry again, slamming one fist into the palm of his other hand.

''They were all ready to take us on back east. And I pitched a fit! I said we couldn't' go with 'em cos those Bannisters, they'd come after all of us, cos we knew well and good what they done. And mebbee they'd come after Aunt Beth an' Uncle Danny, their kids, cos they'd heard from us what happened and how come. Figure I was half off my head, then. Thinkin about it all, now. But right then, I said Daddy'd left me head of th' family, so it was my call! And everybody argued it with me and I wasn't havin' any of it! I just wasn't!

I kept wakin' up screamin' from nightmares all th' time back then. But they weren't just with the babies, or with Daddy, or momma trapped, in th' house. They were all of our folks getting th' same things done them! And I told Francie, th' onliest way we could keep th' rest of our kin safe ever anymore, was to get ourselves out of th' Panhandle… and split up and just stay that way for just about ever! So, it's a lie, what I said that other folks split us up. It wasn't them, at all. It was all me, I done that, all myself.'' Jess finished, once more turning his blue sky gaze away.

''But you were still a boy, dear. They could have made other choices, surely.'' Daisy tried to reassure him, reaching for his hands again.

'' But I begged 'em not to, y' see. I went to Aunt Beth an' I just begged her not to. An' she said she couldn't turn momma's son down, not when I done that. So we got me off one way an' Francie off another an' I thought wherever I went, then I'd come on back and kill me some fire startin' cowardly murderin' land grabbers But I'd just turned eleven, by then and I wasn't any head of anything. I was just a scared little boy, who was never gonna be just a scared little boy, again, ever.

Turns out, they figured pretty well I wasn't doin' all that well, And they made sure all three of us were fine, and safe. They humored me for a spell, and then I found out. And I pretty near blew! I was crazed then, y' see, so

I know what it can feel like. And I treated them awful, I said things to Aunt Beth… ''

Once more Jess stopped, because as they had for so long now, the words caught in his throat, fighting to keep from coming out, from making that time real, again. Then he felt Daisy still gripping his hand, and looked over at her albeit sadly, smiling face.

''You must have been terrified then, dear, and who could blame you? I'm sure they never did, and as far as feeling 'crazed', Jess, I'm sorry but that's part of grieving, too. Part of grieving such a devastating loss as yours is perfectly reasonable fear, Jess. And you can see that now, I know you can understand that it was wholly sane to be afraid of losing your surviving family when so much of it was so horribly taken, gone in just one night. Only how could a boy of eleven, who just lost his parents and half of his siblings, and their home ever know that? I'd say you're the one here who needs to 'cut that boy and yourself some slack' Did I say that right?''

'' Just right, Daisy. But, dang! You're stubborn!'' Jess exclaimed.

'' I am, when it's needed. Now, we're making fine progress, but you haven't finished telling me how you came out of what must have been your very darkest time. ''Daisy answered him, calmly.

''Well, like I said, that caught me flatfooted. Aunt Beth sent for all of us. And I figured she was just bein' generous and thinkin' of Francie, cos I figured she'd have to still be furious with me. And Francie, she said, after we got there, she wouldn't have come if I wasn't made just as welcome. And I made my way east. Now I was thirteen by then, and I'd found out a lot of interestin' ways to cross country. So there I was dusty and dirty and lookin' like a tramp, I'd have to guess and I started to trudge up Th' drive to Aunt Beth's house.

And I don't know, Daisy, I still don't know how it could be. But she was waitin there, waitin' for me to show up, Aunt Beth. And she came scurryin' down Th' porch steps and then down Th' drive, all by herself and she just kinda glommed onta me And I couldn't say a thing, couldn't look her in Th' eye, didn't want to start in bawlin. So I just kinda glommed on, right back. And she just kept holdin' on and whisperin' '' Oh, my, Jess… Oh, my Jess, how I've missed you, so very much and much…'' Jess shook his head, blinking those threatening tears back again.

''And what I heard underneath that was: She forgave me… after I wouldn't trust her, after I wouldn't come home with her. She'd gone and already forgave me! And she always, always did, then, and later, later on, when I'd run off to th' fightin'. And when I come back after… almost in worse case than the first time.

Always, when I didn't think she could, ever, she still forgave me. And I couldn't figure how, how she did when I did then and still do have my biggest problem with just that forgivin'… ''

''Jess, thank you, thank you so very much, dear.'' Daisy said quietly, pressing his hand.

''Daisy, why? What're you thankin me for?'' Jess asked, his blue sky eyes still brightened by tears.

''Because, dear, it means a great deal that you would confide all this in me.'' Daisy said.

'' I almost, Daisy, listen, don't laugh at me, and don't tell a word of this to Slim or Mose, or anybody, I almost felt like I was talkin about it all, finally, with momma, just then. Kinda crazy, ain't that?''

'' No, Jess, I don't think that's any kind of crazy.'' Daisy shook her silver grey head of curls emphatically. '' Some people truly believe that love the best kinds of love live on forever, that that's what makes our souls immortal. And I guess I'm one of those people. Now, what else is there to your worries and your bad dreams, Jess, you've been so courageous telling me so much, but… ''

''But you can read me like an open book, Daisy Cooper!'' Jess nearly laughed, shaking his head again. '' All right… what still makes me wonder…

is if Granddaddy Nate was right, if that whole nightmare time up on th' Panhandle was s'posed to happen, but it happened later on, when I'd got back from th' War, mi' mebbee I could've - done somethin, somethin' more to help them, an' to stop those murderers.

And more than that, even if I could never have stopped what happened, Mebbee I could've handled it - a lot better than I did, a lot better than I ever have. But I'll never know if that's so, will I ?'' Jess asked, wondering, and not for the first time, how this kind hearted, caring adoptive mother found him, and Slim and Mike, in what seemed the nick of time for them all.

'' There's no clear answer to that, dear. I surely wish there was. But I know a whole lot of people, present company very much included, who are very glad you are still 'here', Jess. And I can surely tell you what, after going through my own grieving, I finally came to believe: That my dearest ones, my own lost ones, are also glad I'm still here, to stand for them, Jess, and to do what they would have done. How else, why else did I find my three boys waiting here, in such need of a mother's touch?'' Daisy suggested, keeping her hold on the young man's hand.

'' Figure we pretty much just lucked out, that day.'' Jess said, with another wan grin and a shrug.

'' And Slim, Andy and Jonesy, as well as Mike and me, didn't 'luck out' when you got here? I don't' agree. And I'll tell you why, Jess, but briefly. Sadly, I never had the chance to meet your dear parents. But I did meet Francine, and I've gotten to know you, rather well. And what I see, dear,is what must be the gentle nature you say your father had, every time you ruffle Mike's hair, or kiss my head, or gentle a broody mare… or her nervous colt. And what I hear, whenever you stand up for someone not as strong as my brave son, Jess, is what surely is the strong heart you give me to believe your mother had, traveling halfway across Texas, thousands of miles from her own family, to build a new one,.

And what I feel is without a doubt the full measure of the warm, bright, caring, laughing sensibilities of your brothers and sisters, acting just like a burst of sunshine whenever someone selfish or greedy or just wrong headed tries to darken your world. You say you're dark like your father, so I see him in that way, and in the way you stand up to a bully, as well. And I'm certain that when you get angry with a liar or a cheat, I hear your father's strong sense of Justice, flashing in your voice, too. Now, are you going to try to argue that with me, Jess?'' Daisy challenged him, with a mischievous wink.

'' Wouldn't dream of it. So, you're sayin', bein' a former Reb, former gunfighter, former drifter , that bein' me, is carryin' on, what they would've been doin', for my family, that's gone?'' Jess asked.

'' Very much so, yes.'' Daisy nodded, emphatically at him.

''And you're sayin' that's why I'm still walkin' th' earth?'' Jess demanded.

''Yes, yes I am. But for heaven's sake, Jess don't ask me why anyone has to go through what you did as a boy, or why life can't teach us it's lessons more gently.''

''I was never that good with m' lessons. Mebbee that's why cos I'm so danged hard-headed. Reckon a lot of us Johnny Rebs, our 'lessons' never came 'easy'. And some of those lessons ,can still twist around, come back up an' bite, an' bite down hard''

'' Jess, I've never been a soldier, or imagined being one, although I've heard of some brave young women who were. But what you're telling me sounds very painful, with these memories hitting so hard, again. '' Daisy offered, trying to somehow reassure him, patting his hand, the way she would Mike's. ''And I'd think that would be very disturbing for you, dear. Noone wants to relive such awful times. But when we do, when we do, and others don't share those memories, it can be very hard.''

''Daisy, that's it, you're getting this, just like I thought you would! But, you really don't think it sounds, y' know, sort of crazed?''

'' No, Jess, no, not at all! Why, anyone who's suffered a great loss could react that way, dear. You want to remember only the good things about the ones who are gone now. You want to recall only the good times of the past that's also dead and gone. But those sweet things, those wonderful times, Jess, they're all tied up, all woven in with the awful times, the sad times, and the failings, our sense of failing them. Oh, you're perfectly right, dear, I very well, understand fighting against the worst of my memories, the grief, the anger… the remorse I've felt, just for the fact that I'm still

here and they're …gone.''

Now Jess caught Daisy's left hand in his right and squeezed it, trying again, to send through some wordless comfort. ''And it comes down hardest whenever I start in feelin sorry for ol' Jess again. Poor fella! Poor me! Sure, right! Fellas like me, folks say we don't know how good we've got it, Don't they? Folks say we'd kick if we had both legs cut off.''

'' Well anyone who said that about you, in my hearing wouldn't say it twice!'' Daisy insisted. '' Because you're not still entirely caught up in all these horrid memories, Jess. If you were, you wouldn't have the sense to know that some people might not 'get it'… Jess, you're not even remotely the kind of man who thinks he's the only one who matters! You care more about Traveler, and any other horse of your acquaintance than you do yourself! You care more about stray calves than most men do about stray children! And … you are simply wonderful as a father or an uncle or whatever you want to call yourself, with Mike. Why, Jess Harper, you've got a heart as big as Wyoming Territory… or should I have said as big as Texas?'' Daisy said with a small, warm smile.

'' Well, there's nothin' really as big as all of Texas.'' Jess asserted, with wan smile answering hers.

'' Oh, no, of course not, dear.'' Daisy sagely agreed.

'' Of course, never bein' a soldier you might not get that worryin about a stray calf is pretty much like worryin about next weeks rations, only still on th' hoof.'' Jess half grinned.

''Oh, Jess! Surely you don't imagine a woman doesn't worry about what she's got at hand to feed her hungry brood, do you? But you had more to tell me, didn't you, dear?'' the widow asked him.

''Reckon so, I just, Daisy, how can I think Slim would get this? I can't, not

all the time, so of course, he can't! He pretty much wants to - figure what goes on in this old cracked brain-pan of mine. well, how can he? I can't figure it that well, myself, most times. And how could I expect Slim or Mort or anybody that didn't go through all of that to get it, anyway?"

''Well, we'll get back to discussing Slim after while, dear. We're talking about you, now, Jess.'' Daisy insisted.

'' Yeah.. figure we are… Daisy… mebbee you know how this part went, too… Right at first, after th'… fire, I was nothin' but scared an' angry… all th' danged time… an' I think… mebbee… then, I kinda did go… off my nut… An' then after a time, I didn't feel so crazed, cos I didn't feel too much at all, lost track of a lot of that time, around then, didn't even know how to feel.

Folks would ask me, 'how d'you feel, Jess?' An' I'd stare right through 'em, cos I plumb didn't know how to feel, then. But I, mi' mebbee this is where you get a lot of what I'm sayin', Daisy, I was a whole lot dead, for awhile, back then. Only wanted two things, in the whole, entire world, then, and for a long spell after, and I couldn't have either one: My people back alive, and their killers buried in their own corner of Perdition, right next to mine!''

'' Well, of course you did!'' Daisy answered, so emphatically she saw it nearly made Jess jump in surprise. '' Jess, that may not be what you expected me to say. And it may not be the most uplifting moral judgment, either. But it's a perfectly understandable human reaction to mourning. Maybe you're a little disappointed to hear that, dear. But there's nothing crazed about wanting your family back again, or wanting those dreadful persons punished!''

''Daisy Cooper, if you're tryin' to tell me you wanted to go out after – whoever had to do with your family dyin'. '' Jess almost smiled at the idea. '' I'm gonna tell you I just flat won't believe it.''

'' That's as may be, Jess Harper. But I can and I will set you straight on that matter, right now, this minute! You lost most of your family in one night. My loss took a little while longer. You hated the people responsible. Well, I hated the battles, and the illnesses they – succumbed to. And more than that, you might not have thought in those terms, as a boy, but you hated G-d, too, for allowing that horror to happen.

I know, Jess, because I hated Him, too, and for some good while afterwards. And I let Him know that, on a regular basis, pretty much day and night for a time, in fact. And now I'm so glad I had those 'discussions', I suppose my other relatives and friends thought I was only grieving and praying. But you and I know better. And so does every living soul whose known the tearing pain of losing those we love so very much. And what's so crazy about that? I'll tell you what, nothing.''

'' You had discussions – with G-d?'' Jess asked, as if it was an entirely new and strange idea.

''I did. We had actual arguments. Well, He didn't exactly bother to respond, not in so many words, anyway.

I was in a great deal of pain, the kind of pain I'd wish my boys knew nothing at all about, yet all of you have felt it, you and Mike and Slim. We all know better than we'd ever wish to, how loving can become as painful as it once was joyous.

We've all learned how a heart can break, and not in that schoolgirl romance way at all, but actually seem to tear apart, leaving us with only the pieces, when we're the ones left behind. And we've all come much closer than we ever dreamed to that terrible moment when it seems our bonds to the ones we love are cut, and forever. And yes, I said 'seems' because that's just what I came to learn, Jess, when my own dearest ones, my dearest loves, were gone.''

''Daisy – '' Jess shook his head and tried to find her some word of comfort. Finally he just sighed and touched her cheek for an instant, then tiredly dropped his hand back to the table. '' They are gone. Guess that's not what either of us wants to hear, or wants to know. Don't' we have to – just know that? Isn't that what – we're s'posed to do? Admit th' truth of th' matter, an' let them – let them go? Isn't that what ever' one always says, you've got to do – just accept it?''

''Yes, everybody says that, dear. But you were right, I've struggled with all these same questions and I've come to some – more complete, if not finished answers. And it took a great deal of time. And it took a lot of striving. And as I said, in all honesty, it took a lot of arguing with G-d on my part, too. And then, finally, as if to make what I'd learned clear as day, it took my finding a family here, just as you did, two years before.

It took my finding I had a family here waiting for me, when I was truly ready to give up and – just accept my loneliness, my feelings of remorse, and my sense of failing the ones I loved so much. But here you were, you and your brothers, wanting and needing me, immediately! Well, I suppose Jonesy wouldn't' mind if I said he more qualifies as an uncle And that wanting, Jess! That was the real miracle to me. Your wanting me to stay here, was such a gift to me, so much beyond your need for a weary old widowed-woman!.'' Daisy smiled and saw just a glimmer of a more Jessian smile pull at the Texan's handsome mouth.

'' So, we were here, to show you that – your family – your family back up east, wasn't truly gone? An' that showed you – that when a body loses – somebody – They don't - not really? Daisy, I mi' mebbee a bit tired an' mi' mebbee I'm not as quick on th' uptake as I'd like. But I'm not exactly getting four when I put those two an' two t'gether. Help me out here, a bit more, will you?'' Jess asked, and Daisy had to hold back a giggle now, because he'd managed to scrunch his handsome features very much the way Mike did when similarly confused by grown folks.

[ _But maybe it's Mike who scrunches his face the way Jess is doing right now, not the other way around._]

''I'd be glad to. And I hope you don't find this altogether too much poetic license, dear.'' Daisy nodded. '' What I mean to say is that, as we're often told, and don't as often believe, Love is immortal. It is what puts us here to begin with. It is what remains when our – earthly forms – fail us. It can't be destroyed, by fire or illness or time, or by anyone or – anything in our puny human power, or our feeble human understanding. We're only mortal creatures as far as our – bodies – are concerned, not as far as our spirits, Jess. And I think you do know the truth of that. And I think you might even feel it, as much as I do, sometimes, when Mike does something that every other boy his age has ever done, and you see your younger brothers in him,

Or Slim takes 'command' and finds ways to make this home of ours run smooth as silk, despite all his worries, like my father could, and I think, likely yours and a great many other fathers manage to do – for their families. And I know I feel it, Jess, when you take on any and all comers, to defend us and our little home, here, the way any brother or son or father – or mother for that matter will, against any odds whatsoever. It's our love for each other that opens our eyes and hearts to all that, to know what truly matters – and what doesn't. Our seeming differences – they aren't what matters. Our hearts – our open hearts – wanting this home of ours so much more than we merely need it, that's what brought us all here. That's what holds us together – against all odds and any comers.''

'' An' th' way you take on all an' any crazed notions I come up with?'' Jess asked her, very softly. ''Not to mention all Slim's plans an' projects?''

''Something along those lines, dear. Yes. Something like that. Does that help?''

'' Daisy, I think it does, I think so, mi' mebbee.'' Jess nodded, and stood up again, going for another cup of coffee.

'Jess, have some water, now, not more coffee, please!'' Daisy pleaded, with a mitigating smile, ''Or you'll be up the rest of the night!''

'' Yes, mom.'' Jess said, obeying her wishes with a nod and a small, wan smile of his own.

''Thank you, dear.'' Daisy said.

''Daisy, I still gave Slim kinda hard time, b'fore. Mebbee I should go talk to…''

''You should and you will go right to bed and start catching up on your sleep, young man. Then, tomorrow you and Slim can work out your travel plans.''

'' Umm… our travel plans, Daisy? Pard, what's going on?'' Slim asked, yawning as he popped his head in the front door.

'' I think Daisy … I mean General Cooper here, is just about ready to give us our marchin' orders, Pard. Or mebbee our walkin' papers.'' Jess tiredly grinned.

'' The former rather than the latter, young mister, unless you two rascals start seriously misbehaving again, that is!'' Daisy sternly insisted.

''And just what are … our orders, General Cooper… ma'am?'' Slim managed to ask, almost without cracking a smile. Almost.

'' Jess is going to go on and see his cousin, Jemmy, as he was asked to do. They haven't met and talked in seven years and more, so it can only do them both a world of good. And in the fall, unless there's some reason I don't know and can't think of just now, Jess will be going to California to meet his new nephew or niece!'' Daisy answered.

'' And what about Slim?'' Jess demanded to know. ''Doesn't he get any orders, ma'am?''

'' He surely does!'' Daisy nodded, grinning widely. '' Slim is going to visit with Andy and Jonesy in St. Louis, once Jess gets back to mind the store and the station with me. Mike will be done with school for the year, by then. So we can talk about him finally going to meet his uncle Jonesy and his brother, Andy.

It's about time those two young men got to know each other face to face, I'd say, wouldn't you? And unless there's some other reason I can't think of and don't know of now, Andy and Jonesy will come home for the holidays, just the way family should! And right now, both of you foolish boys are traveling no further than your respective bunks! Get moving!''

'' Yes, ma'am, General… I mean… Doctor Cooper, ma'am… I mean… Yes, ma'am!'' Jess saluted her, managing a weary chuckle.

'' Enough of that! Now, march!'' Daisy laughed in turn, but gave not an inch of ground. Deciding on the better part of valor, Jess wordlessly saluted Daisy and then once more planted a kiss atop her silvery curls, while Slim immediately followed suit, after which they just barely accomplished an orderly retreat.

Following 'orders', Jess packed up fairly early the next morning, after Daisy made sure he had the socks she'd darned, the shirt and the denims she'd mended, and a good supply of her molasses cookies. ' You boys couldn't go more than a week, a fortnight at the outside, without my molasses cookies!' Daisy laughed.

'' And that would be goin' it some!'' Jess grinned, and kissed the top of her silvery grey head again. '' And we couldn't ever go even that long without you, Daisy Cooper.''

''And don't I know it! Just you take care, you rapscallion!'' the widow said with a new note of worry in her voice and in her smile, and in her wide grey eyes. First thing this morning, Jess read his cousin's letter, and then read it to both his partner and their surrogate mother.

'' Yeah, I was wrong. And I don't want to hear any I told you sos, Pard.'' Jess frowned. '' Jemmy isn't up to any devilment this time. But someone surely is. And it's something to do with the 8th Texas. Don't know why, I surely don't. But it always seemed like we were always in one kind of trouble or another, in Terry's Rangers. Course, back then, some folks seemed to think there was a War on!''

'' I think I did hear something about that, myself, Pard.'' Slim shook his head. '' Keep your eyes open on the road, Jess. This sounds like more than just some devilment, at least the way we used to mean it, in the 1st Nebraska.''

'' I will.'' Jess shrugged. '' But then, I always have done, or I likely wouldn't be here. And I … need to… I need to be here for the folks who ain't any longer. Don't I, Daisy?''

'' And for the folks who are, Jess.'' Daisy nodded, glad to hear he'd taken her words to heart.'' I'll miss you, you young scoundrel! But I am proud of you, for going to help your cousin.''

Jess beamed at that, warmed by her praise, and promptly pecked a kiss on Daisy's smiling face. ''Well, I've got to get. It's a good nine, ten days ride, just to get from here to the North Platte where Jemmy said he'd be stoppin' next, most likely. And maybe, just maybe…'' the Texan grinned again, clearing pondering something.

'' Hey, Jess! Maybe what, Jess?'' Mike demanded, rushing out of the ranch house at full tilt, so as not to miss wishing Jess a good trip east.

'' Whoa, hold it, Tiger!'' Jess said, catching the little boy, when Mike stumbled. '' How're you gonna take care of these two, and the ranch and the relays for me while I'm away, if you trip over your own boots and break your leg?''

'' Don't worry 'bout that, Jess.'' Mike insisted, as he had all during breakfast, when he wasn't chattering excitedly about his possible trip to St Louis with Slim. '' I've got it figured, every bit of it! Everything will be runnin' smooth as … just smooth as anything! Maybe what?''

'' Maybe I'll be able to bring you back a surprise you'd never expect, Tiger, is what I was thinkin'.'' Jess grinned at the boy's single-minded need to know.

''Jess, what?'' the tyke demanded to know.

'' Well, I' druther not say, just yet, Mike. It'll depend on a lot of different things and different folks helpin' me get it figured. So, d' you think you can keep from just plumb expirin' from not knowin' in the meantime?''

'' Oh, yeah, I s'pose so.'' Mike frowned, he knew Jess wasn't going to say another word about this possible surprise just now. All the signs and signals were there on the Texan's face and in his blue eyes. Jess had something in mind he thought would be a lot of fun, that much was certain sure, the little boy could guess. And he meant to 'spring it on' the rest of them, when everything 'fell into place', but not even one instant before. '' They don't have any more Injuns back in that ol' Nebras… Nebraska, do they, Jess?''

'' Oh they've still got one or two, I reckon. Why, Mike? D' you want me to bring you back a Pawnee squaw?'' Jess joked.

'' What for, Jess, they're girls!'' Mike grimaced. '' Nope, I just wondered, that's all, if Injuns would be somethin' you oughta be lookin' out for. I was just wonderin' if you might need some fella to ride along an' watch your back… that's all.''

'' Well, that's never a bad idea, Tiger. But Nebraska's pretty well settled, these days, so I'm not that awfully worried. B'sides you just got done sayin' you'd be taking care of the ranch an' all while I'm away, didn't you?'' Jess asked, keeping a serious manner with the little boy. This is the way he'd seen his own father deal with Jess and his brothers, years ago, and the way Slim did with both Andy and Mike, showing the boys far more respect than most grown folks would.

Mike grinned again and nodded. ''You'll see, Jess! I'm gonna get everything done just fine! Promise!''

''Well now, that's all I was waiting to hear.'' Jess grinned back, and ruffled Mike's mop of light brown hair. Then he mounted Traveler, with a rueful look at the saddle bags, straining to hold the 'few things' Daisy packed in them, for his journey. '' Don't let your new ranch-boss work you too hard now, Pard.'' the Texan laughed.

'' Don't worry, there will still be a lot of work to get done when you get back here, Pard.'' Slim laughed right back. ''I promise.''

Shaking his head, Jess turned Traveler, who seemed more eager than Jess was for the open road. Now the Texan simply smiled and nodded to Daisy, who was watching him leave, her wide, wise grey eyes smiling. Then Jess rode out and east, trying to recall the last time he'd taken this direction, except for a few, rare trips to Cheyenne.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FOUR Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

Following the only lead he had on 'Neddy2', Lee Henry's youngest, Solomon Howell reluctantly led his unit to Cheyenne's red-light district, searching several of the cheaper, and then the fancier saloons and brothels. And more than once he cursed the need to bring a pair of the heaviest drinkers in the Company along.

He spent too much time and energy simply keeping Dev and Seanny out of those saloons and the fancier 'watering holes' they found on every corner, as the constant backdrop for the variable collections of 'soiled doves'. And when he wasn't 'minding' those two possible turncoats, or possible damned fools, or both, Howell found himself lecturing Ian, Adam and Mickey, all of whom he'd've thought knew better, on the long term hazards of the short term fun of 'making the acquaintance' of such so-called 'ladies'.

In this way, as far as the Company's present commander was concerned, nearly two full days were thrown away while he made sure none of his 'boys' threw 'good money after bad' in the interests of getting drunk or getting anything else they were being offered on all sides. They were here to trip up a pair of likely traitors, Howell kept reminding them.

What he didn't bother saying was he was there to trip up two pairs of potential double-crossers, or at the very least to put a stop to the tomfoolery of two pairs of damnable, disloyal fools! But as Brady, Adam and Mickey cheerily reminded their commanding officer, it had been 'a long while between drinks', for everyone present. And nothing was going to work more against Howell's goals than a rigid insistence on 'good behavior' now. These 'boys' were in fact, for the most part, grown men. And a good half to two thirds of them had been soldiers.

That meant they understood the need for the sternest possible discipline prior to a battle. It also meant they understood the 'grand endeavors' to be a covert campaign that had yet to escalate into full fledged warfare. And therefore, they were going to do exactly as they pleased in this much more relaxed environment, and take the consequences later.

So while Howell for the most part stood darkly frowning, in one darkened corner or another of one house of ill repute or saloon or another, his boyyos gambled some, drank some and 'made the acquaintance' of some 'ladies' of far more than dubious mores. These came in all shapes and sizes, and ages, Howell noted, and in various states of health. But some things they all had in common, the fanciful, even absurd names they gave their 'new friends' with knowing winks and open grins, the showy silks and satins they wore on all occassions, and their incessant, inane chatter, until the discussion came down to matters of 'business', of course.

When that point came these 'girls' who variously called themselves Astrid, Phedra, Daphne, Imogen, Mariamne, and Athena, were among the shrewdest 'trades people' Solomon Howell had encountered in some time. He supposed they had to be, working as they did in what was still a rough, territorial capital town, more than it was a city. Doing what they did 'to get by', these women had to be intensely wary of being cheated, robbed, arrested and otherwise maltreated by their 'gentleman friends'.

And it occurred to Howell, in observing these 'ladies of ill repute', that they acted more like colleagues than competitors, with the other 'red-headed ladies in Cheyenne's red-light sector. Seeing that, the dark eyed, gaunt faced Howell realized he might not need waste any more time searching Cheyenne's back streets for seventeen year old Neddy, who might have come to any one of these 'houses' asking to be 'educated'. He could let these 'ladies' make the rest of his search for him, for a price.

''Well, I thought you'd never get down to making a business proposition.'' 'Thea', the lithe, greying strawberry blonde madame of the brothel Howell's boys were visiting tonight grinned. '' But then, I didn't expect a fine-looking gentleman like yourself to tell me he was in my part of town looking for a … ''

'' You're either more drunk than you seem, yourself, or you are deliberately, and insultingly mistaking my meaning!'' Howell finally hissed at her.

'' Oh, well, in that case, I profoundly apologize, my dear sir!'' Thea mockingly laughed. '' You're not this poor, lost lamb's Daddy, are you? I already know you're not one of the local marshals or one of those damnable, prying constables, or you'd have already made us that kind of trouble. ''

'' I'm not any kind of damn fool, damnYankee lawman! I'm looking for this boy and for his Daddy who may or may not be 'visiting' this part of town together. In any case, my proposition doesn't require you know why I'm looking for them. It only requires you to tell me if you or any of your… 'ladies' has seen either the boy or the man I'll now describe for you, here or in this … neighborhood in the past fortnight, if you want the cash reward I already mentioned.''

''Well, now, don't get your feathers so badly ruffled! Tell me what the Daddy looks like and I'll ask my girls… ''

''Without mentioning either who's looking for them, or the money.'' Howell insisted.

''Why, naturally not. You surely don't think I intend sharing that kind of cold, hard cash with the floozies I have working for me, these days, now do you? Most of them, anyway, haven't got the least sort of a head for business. But I do.''

'' And you have contacts amongst the other… establishments of this kind, I believe?''

'' Well of course I do!'' Thea laughed again. '' We have to protect each other from the damn constables and those foolhardy prudes who come sneaking down here from the legislature, don't we? Who will if we don't? The marshals? The customers? Don't worry yourself, friend. If my girls don't recognize either of these fellows, one of my … peers in the district surely will, that is if the boy or his Daddy has been here.

We're losing a lot of business to Denver and points south, just lately. But that might have just been with the trail drives coming into the railheads. We'll make it all up, and more, when all that beef is finally shipped to all those rich Yankees up east, again. Now, you were about to tell me something more about this poor wandering boy's Daddy, I believe.''

Nodding, Howell tersely described Lee Henry Morrissey to the madame, wishing again for an unnerving moment that neither 'Thea' nor any of her 'peers' would find the man or his errant son. When it turned out none of her 'girls' recalled the Morrisseys, she proved as good as her word and sent runners to the other houses. Howell waited, allowing himself one dram only of the madame's surprisingly good brandy, trying not to envision what he'd have to do to his former Commander, if Lee Henry was damned fool enough to let himself be found this easily.

One quarter hour, then another, then a third dragged on in this way, without a word coming back to Howell. Then, Thea, still laughing, came back to the corner of her 'best parlour' Solomon Howell had commandeered to keep his dark, cold gaze on the goings on. Linked arm in arm with her were a dark haired, bright eyed petite woman who laughed warmly, as she introduced herself to Howell as 'Constance' and a copper-penny red haired, dark eyed 'lady' who winked cheerfully, when she said her name was 'Naomi'.

''These two businesswomen are my oldest and my dearest friends. And with me, like me, they've weathered as much trouble and travail or more, as any of your fellows may have done in your little War. '' Thea told him, grinning brightly, as if she knew just how badly her tone, her words and her whole affect were exasperating Howell.

''So you'll treat them as respectfully and as honestly as you would any other person you want to do business with, in Cheyenne or, for that matter in this whole damn Territory, as well as parts of Colorado, the Dakotas and all points west and south from here. If you can do that, we might, and please note, I said we might just be able to complete this little transaction.

If not, you and your fellows can go back to checking every corner and every broken down trollop's crib in this whole, damn entire district for the pair of miscreants you want. And likely you'll never find them, that way, especially not if we put the word out that, like most of your gender, you can't be trusted any further than you can be thrown.''

'' I've already said I would abide by the proposition we earlier agreed to. '' Howell answered, seething. ''You can either take my word, or forget about taking one cent of the money we discussed.''

''Thanks.'' Thea nodded, and turned to her companions. ''Girls?''

''The boy you're looking for was at my place a week and a half ago. '' the redhead told Howell. '' He's a sweet youngster, but a youngster. So, I sent him packing, when I found out he wasn't even eighteen yet. I told him I'm not running some sort of danged school for wayward little boys. And I told him which of my friends might be willing to 'help him out'. ''

''And he then came over to my place, after another of our ladies social

circle decided against taking him in, despite all the money he was flashing around.'' the brunette continued. '' And he's still at my place now, sleeping off a pretty serious bender. I never turn down a lot of cash, y' see. It doesn't make good business sense, to my way of thinking. Also, I have some girls who know a thing or two about youngsters, and who like to … get a fellow started the way he should … Now, where's my money?''

''When I have the boy, you'll have your money.'' Howell insisted, only to find the trio of madame's blocking his path out of the parlour.

''No, sorry. That wasn't the deal, mister.'' Thea reminded him, holding out her hand, palm up. '' The deal was, and still is, half the cash when you knew where to find the boy, the other half when you actually have him. Otherwise, you're on your own, and without a single, solitary friend in this town. Which is it going to be?''

Scowling, Solomon Howell very much wanted to knock all three madams over, on his way out the door. But he'd let two days go by without finding Neddy. Finally, he nodded and gave 'Thea' half agreed on reward. She grinned and immediately split the cash with her cohort. With that done, 'Constance' waited for Howell to roust his men and follow her to the back door of the 'house' she owned, on the next street over.

Then, with the madam's pass key, Howell unlocked and pushed the door out of his way. Despite the madam's promises, Howell was still surprised to find young Neddy, half dressed and passed out in a backroom there. The 'girls' with him took one look at the newcomers, and rushed out the door, and Solomon Howell handed over the rest of the 'reward' to their employer, who stood blocking the doorway until she got paid.

Clearly, the boy had been enjoying himself and his 'educatin' mightily. Just as clearly, there was no sign of Lee Henry being anywhere around. Now, Howell set Chris and Rand to watch at each entrance to the brothel, those two being the most sober of the lot, right now. Then he assigned Miller and Tim to watch the hallway leading to the downstairs 'bedrooms', with orders to sing out and or to join in if any real trouble erupted. Reluctantly, he kept Dev and Sean with him, along with Brady, Mickey, Adam and Ian.

''Wake up, Neddy.'' Mickey Stewart called out, at Howell's signal. ''The party's done, boy. Wake up! You're coming with us. But first we have to talk. Where's your Poppa, boy?''

''Mick?'' Neddy muttered, squinting at the taller, older man. ''Hey, Mick, when'd you get here? What's th' matter, boy? Why d'you say the party's done? It don't have to be, at all I've still got a mortal lot of … Hey, Solly. Hey, fellas. Whyn't you let a fella know you were comin' inta town to join th' fun? We've been havin' a mortal lot of …''

''Shut it, Neddy.'' Howell ordered the boy. ''Mickey asked the only question we want your answer to. And we'd best have the truth of it, right off, boy. If not, there's not going to be any more fun, not for you, anyhow. Where's your Daddy now? Where's Lee Henry at, right this minute?''

''I dunno, Solly.'' the seventeen year old claimed, waking a bit more and becoming frightened. ''I ain't seen Daddy in nearly … umm… nearly a month and a little more. He… he was headed for Denver, I … I … think that's what he said. Ain't he come back, yet? Did he stay down in Denver? ''

'' He came back to Missus Pascale's place outside town here, from Denver, just over a week ago. He left again the same day. They had something of a dust-up, Neddy. But you wouldn't know that, would you, boy, since you took off more than ten days ago, while I was on my way to Collins? And you took off without giving proper notice or asking leave of anyone in the Company, Neddy-boy, before you came on in to town here and made a general nuisance of yourself, from what I hear!

And from what I hear, you've been throwin' a whole lot of money around too. Now where in tarnation would you get that kind of money, Neddy? And where in tarnation would you get the notion to up and go absent without leave that way? I think your Daddy gave you both the cash you've been so free with around here, and the idea to light out on us, and the idea to rat us out! So just where is that old Daddy of yours now, Neddy? And what in the very devil made you think you could just run out on the Company?''

'' I ain't! I ain't run out or ratted out nobody, Solly! I ain't done that, Mickey, you gotta know I … Adam… Brady… Dev, you gotta know that! Seanny, Ian-boy, you know I ain't no kinda … quitter, an' no kinda rat, neither!'' Neddy frantically insisted.

'' We only know Herself says you and Lee Henry ran out to rat us out, Neddy. So it's pretty much her word up against yours, now, ain't it?'' Brady Reid laughed, when Howell nodded permission for him to take up the question and answer 'session'. '' So now you tell us, where's that Daddy of yourn, where's Lee Henry gone off to?''

''I … I dunno, Brady! I got no idea whatever!'' Neddy maintained.

''Well, you best get yourself one, an' on the double quick, boy!'' Adam North demanded in his turn. '' 'cause we need to find him, an' right soon now, too, Neddy-boy! Her Fine Ladyship, Th' Widow, ain't sendin' us on no more sorties, till we can tell her th' two of you ain't makin' us any more trouble. So, right now, the two of you are just gummin' up the works! So, you tell us, now, where's Lee Henry?''

'' I dunno, Adam! '' the boy claimed, again. '' I dunno where he'd go, mebbee back down to Denver, mebbee back to Missouri, or Loosi anna! Yeah, mebbee he took it in his head to go on back home to N'Olins!''

''Not without you, Neddy-boy.'' Mickey Stewart argued, chiming in. '' Not without his only remaining little boy, he wouldn't! So we figured Lee Henry's still around these parts, waitin' us out. Waitin' till he figures he can safe come out and nab you. But we can't allow that. You know we can't do that, boy, not when our necks are the ones on the line here!''

'' But, Solly,'' the boy insisted, desperately, knowing all too well how cold a killer Howell was.'' I dint never mean anything 'gainst th' Company, dint say nor do anythin' 'gainst th' grand endeavors, neither! An' wouldn't do nothing 'gainst you fellas! You gotta know that, Miller, Mick, Ian, Adam, Brady…all y'all just gotta know that! An' my Daddy, he wouldn't neither! Y'all gotta know that's nothin' but true, don't y'?''

''And I suppose you're gonna tell us why Missus Pascale would make a tale like this up outa whole cloth? Are you, Neddy? 'Cause I can't figure that one tiny bit!'' Howell insisted.

''Well, Solly…. you said they had … one of their dust-ups. You said that yourself, not five minutes ago. An' they have those kinda set-tos, ever' once in awhile. We all know that!'' the boy went on. '' We've all heard 'em arguin' an' cussin' an' spittin' fire at each other. An' … then usually, it's Daddy, who goes on ahead and smoothes things over with her… with Aunt 'genie. Mebbee he's just waitin' for her to … get over … bein' angry, this time. Mebbee. How'd I know?''

'' Because he sent you away, Neddy-boy!'' Howell answered. ''She told me, he made sure you weren't anywhere around her, or any of us, nearly a week before he lit out himself! She told me he set it up for you to take off. Only, I can't think how Lee Henry would much care for his only remainin' boy to be hunkered down, an' hidin' out with a lot of … ''

'' Shut it, Sol!'' Neddy shouted, his own temper rising. '' Just shut it, now! My Daddy has run th' dang Company for Herself for three dang years now! He's run it just fine! An' he knows dang well what could come of goin' anywhere near th' damnYankee law, now! An' he's never done anythin' like that!

So if The Widow said he did… Well, she's just … she's just … not thinkin' straight! Maybe she ain't done much straight thinkin' for awhile now! That don't mean you get to stomp in here an' call me an' my Daddy dang traitors! ' cause we ain't! We never could be, not me an' most of all not ever onct, could my Daddy! ''

'' The general's widow called this Company into bein'. '' Howell contradicted the boy, frowning. ''She knew there were traitors and turncoats a-plenty to do the jobs of work that got left undone, when we were made to give up and give in, back in th' 65! Your Daddy seemed to know that, hisself, for most th' past three years. He seemed t' think we should go after them that turned against the South an' against Southrons like us.

But Lee Henry's got hisself a temper too, a match for hers, any day o' the week and twice as much of a Sunday, sometimes! n' I don't doubt for a minute the two of them could have come to a partin' of the ways, if both of 'em got their tempers up high and hard enough. So, you tell me, Neddy, and you tell me the dang truth, now: Did you or did you not talk to Lee Henry, b'fore he went to Denver last, b'fore you lit out?''

'' I never did!'' Neddy cried out, his bright hazel eyes wide, his whole frame shaking.

''Alright. I believe you on that one question. You didn't talk to your Daddy b'fore you come into Chey. But Did he leave you any kinda word about what he means to do? Did he write to you, Neddy? Did he tell you to leave Th' Company and high tail it for the nearest law? Did he send you or leave you any kinda packet? Cause all of that is what The Widow told me. And all you have to do, now, Neddy, is stand still while we search you and what gear you've got here, for us to know whether she spoke truth or spoke sense or not. ''

''Search all y' damn well please then!'' the boy answered, and bit at his lower lip as if to keep from saying more. ''I got nothin' but money I won playin' cards an' such… at one of them gamblin' places hereabouts. I got nothin' here b'longs to anybody but m'self! An' m' Daddy never in all th' time I've … all m' life has ever tol me to go anywhere near any kinda law! Why in the very devil would he when it could just as easy put a rope around m' neck or his own? You tell me that, Solly? You answer me that! ''

Howell ignored the boy for a few minutes while he watched the others search Neddy's saddle bags and satchel. And when they found only the money they already knew about, and knew from Constance how Neddy had in fact won it, the Company men all wore similar frustrated frowns. Solomon Howell's frown was darker than all the rest, as he wondered how or why 'The Widow' would invent the story she'd told him. Was she losing what little reason she had left, or was she playing some bizarre game with, giving some kind of test to the man who now led her Company? This whole scenario was making less and less sense by the minute!

And then, it got even worse. Women's screams, and not the kind expected in such a 'house', came from the outside the backdoor, and then from the hallway. Howell backed up to glance out the only window in the room, and saw only what he expected, the open, empty yard between the back of this establishment and the livery stables across the alleyway.

But something made more than one of the 'girls' here scream in what sounded like genuine fright. He knew 'ladies' of this sort could be gifted actresses, as part of their 'work'. He also knew there couldn't be much that frightened any woman who'd spent any length of time in this part of the world. Just the journey west was more than most faint-hearted Easterners could manage.

''Brady, you go on out, find Rand and find out what's going on. '' Solomon Howell now ordered. ''Adam, you go on out front and find out if Chris saw or heard any sign of Lee Henry, or anyone else likely to make us some trouble here. And Neddy-boy, it don't seem as if you're lyin' to us. But you surely know by now that it will be only G-d left to help you, if you have. And you know Mickey's only sayin' the truth when he says all our necks are on the line, here. So if there's anything else you think we oughta know, now would be the time to say whatever that might be. ''

Neddy squared his shoulders and jutted his chin out, putting on more of a show of bravery than Howell remembered him exhibiting much before now. Lee Henry would be proud to see this show of courage and defiance, the Company's present Commander knew, whether 'Herself' was telling the truth of the matter, or not.

''I got nothin' more to tell you, Sol. I done nothin' I need be shamed about, cept maybe getting drunk on my backside, and so not bein' exactly payin' heed when you boys come in here. That might not've been th' smartest thing I coulda done. An' if I was to say anythin' more, it's likely to be somethin' you already know, an' mebbee better than me. Aunt 'genie, she's not been all the time in her right mind, partly since her ol' General passed on an' even more … even more since m' uncle Neddy up an' died, five years back.

An' she's had some times since, when she dint hardly know who was right there next to her, an' who warn't! An all us seen an heard her when she took that kinda spell! An' all y'all have seen an heard her rantin' on about ol' times an' such! But y' all come after me an' m' Daddy on just her word, right now, Solomon, when she coulda just as likely been in another one of her bad spells? What th' devil kinda sense does that make? None, that's what I say!''

''Damn all, Neddy, what in the very devil else were we supposed to do? The Widow says I'm now to lead the Company, and I'm now to take her direct orders. And if she's off her head … well, which of us wouldn't be, had we the time to spare for all the grievin' we ain't yet done? And I come here with some of the boys to find out the truth of the matter from you and from Lee Henry.

And so far, I've found nothin' but one drunken kid and a lot of bothersome … women. So, suppose you just stop rufflin' your own feathers there, and try to think, and tell us, Neddy where your Daddy might have gone if he ain't here in Chey, waitin', like the Mick said, for us to give up and get on the road to somewheres he ain't. Because unless I talk to Lee Henry, I can't hardly go back to The Widow now, without I at least take you along, Neddy-boy. And that I will do, be you quick when it happens or be you … ''

''Dead? No, I don't think you're going to murder my sole surviving child in cold blood. No, you're not going to do that, Solomon, old friend. And neither are any of these fine buckos you brought with you to do just that job of work.'' Lee Henry Morrissey growled, walking into this back room off the brothel's lower floor 'boudoir' from the doorway , cradling his own shining new, Remington Whitmore shotgun with a fancy grain, checkered, pistol grip stock, and bright engravings on it's action and its locks.

This he held with the breech lever pulled upwards, the barrels thus open, and pointed directly at the Company men now. One double-barreled blast from that weapon, all the men in the room knew, might not kill them all outright. But it was likely to maim them, and even more likely to knock them down and out, just long enough to finish the job it started.

''Lee Henry, hold up there. You have to know we're only here on orders from Herself, directly. We come here on her say-so, that you two have it in mind to turn the lot of us over to that same damnYankee law.'' Solomon Howell told his former commander.

''Well, I'm sad to say, old friend, that I expected no less from my purportedly loving sister. But we'll get back to the specifics on that in just a moment. First of all, since I'm not interested in leaving a lot of blown to hell corpses here for the law to get on my tail about, I'll have every man jack of you set their various weapons down and kick them over to Neddy. And do all that very slowly and very, very gently, right now, my friends.'' Morrissey nodded, as Howell and the others prudently complied with his orders, at least for now.

'' That's it, boys. Now then, put your hands up, empty, if you please, friends, and just as high as you possibly can.'' the older man ordered, in a voice they all knew and knew brooked not the least defiance. '' Take our friend's weapons now, Neddy and throw them each and all into the necessary behind you. That's the boy. ''

''I didn't hear any gunplay, Lee Henry.'' Howell noted, as Neddy, looking as surprised as the Company men, now obeyed his father. ''And all accounted for, I had six men stationed either outside this place or in that hallway. So, would I be right in guessing you were right here all this while, and hiding from us, along with your damn liar of a boy?''

''No. You'd be wrong, old friend. I was across the hallway, entirely unbeknownst to Neddy, for the past several rather peaceful, enjoyable days. I can't think when I last took the time for… such things. But I wasn't about to announce my presence Solomon, by pounding on that door, or letting young Miller or Tim sound the alarm. Instead I asked several of the 'ladies' to emit a frantic cry or two, which I'm sure you heard. That being done, those two, fine upstanding young Southron gentlemen rushed in the open doorway of my rooms and were soon thereafter disposed of.''

''You killed them, Lee Henry?'' Dev Jackson demanded to know.

'' I did no such thing, Devlin. I merely asked some of my beauteous, nubile young companions across the way to knock those two boys unconscious, which they did, and quite handily, I believe they may in fact have some experience in that regard. I believe they may have trussed them up like a pair of squabs set for the roasting, by this time. But otherwise, I do assure you gentlemen, your companions were unharmed. I , for one, have done all the outright murdering and all the killing I hope to do for the rest of my natural life. I wish I thought you boys felt the same, I truly do.''

''We've done no murder, Lee Henry.'' Howell insisted. ''And we plan none. We have taken the lives of our enemies, when and as it became necessary. And if you got Tim and Miller stashed, that still leaves four of my boys outside and four in here. I'm not sure I'd like those odds, was I you, right now.''

''But you're not, Sol. You never could be. For one thing, as far as I can recollect, you've never in our long acquaintance so much as acknowledged any progeny whatsoever. In fact, as I recall, your dear Cirri died while she was carrying the only child I ever heard you speak of in any way at all. And second, I'd hate to think any of these boys would let me out-right blow your damnfool head clean off your shoulders, just to keep me from blowing their damnfool heads off the same exact way. But I mean to accomplish what I came back to Cheyenne expressly to do, Solomon, old friend. And you truly must believe me when I say I will cheerfully take you all down, in order to make sure of that goal.''

'' You'd do that, even though you're so danged weary of killing and murdering, Lee Henry? And if your goal isn't to murder us here and now or to put us, along with the whole, entire rest of the Company on a gallows, then I for one would truly like to know what it may be!'' Sean Hoynes called out.

'' I think we'd all like to know the answer to that question. What is it you intend on doing, Lee Henry?'' Howell agreed.

'' Getting my only remaining child away from here to safety, Solomon.

That was my whole, entire intention to begin with, whatever my dearest twin has conjectured to the contrary notwithstanding.

She … doesn't seem to understand my position in all this has been always directly related to my sons, those that died during the Conflict and the one surviving boy I still have. And I did my utmost to explain that to Eugenie the last time we spoke, to no avail, it would now appear. But, I still have a third point to make here. And Neddy, when I say this, I want no remonstrance whatsoever from you about it. Do you understand me, boy?''

''I… 'm not altogether certain sure I do understand, Daddy? I was already gone from there. I was already … away from Aunt 'genie.'' Neddy answered, shaking his head.

' But you came no more than an hour's ride away from her, Neddy, if that, or from the deadly dangers posed by her … moodiness of late. Now, all of you listen to me and understand very clearly what I say to you. Because, even if no one else does, my dearest Twin will demand every detail of our… encounter here from each and all of unfortunately, we all know how very … exacting our own Eugenie Isabelle can be when she seeks out the answer to whatever question may be … troubling her at present.

We have all spent the past three years trying to get the answers my sister demanded, have we not? Very well then. I have instructions for each of you fine gentlemen. And I will be more than happy to blow either Solomon here, or any one of you right to kingdom come if you do anything to thwart me in this… particular endeavor of mine.

First of all, please do, sit down, Ian, if you will, in that rocking chair by the window. Neddy, if you will please, take the curtain sash or something of that kind and secure our friend Ian to his seat. Yes, that will do. Now, you, Sean Micheal, me fine boyyo… I'll have you sit on the bench at the end of the bed there. Neddy, once more, use … yes, use some of those heavy ties from the bedding to make sure Sean Micheal stays put , for now.

Now, Micheal Liam, Mickey, I'm afraid it may be a bit trickier… considering your reach and your height… Micheal Liam, I'm going to have to ask you to walk into that closet, and Neddy, yes, lock the door, that's right, and then brace one of the nightstands against the door. And Devlin, old fellow, old chap… you're nearly as tall as our Micheal Liam… Where shall we stow you for safety's sake, while I complete my… own final sortie here, today?''

''I could climb into that taller armoire, Lee Henry, and never bother you in the least, from there. '' Jackson offered, eyeing how Morrissey carefully kept the breech lever pulled, the shotgun ready to do it's worst.

''See to it that you do not, young sir.'' Morrissey agreed. ''Neddy, I think Devlin would be greatly aided in his gracious cooperation if you would bind his hands and his feet, and then move the other nightstand up against his enclosure, there. Very good. Now you and I, Solomon, old friend, can have the discussion we clearly require between us, at the moment.''

''I still have four boys outside this 'house', Lee Henry, four young, strong well armed buckos, none of whom you've either tied up or locked up so far. '' Howell reiterated. '' Why is it, I wonder, you're not concerned that Brady, Chris, Adam or Rand will come storming in here at any moment and take possession of you, your remaining existence in this vale of tears, your boy and all of your firearms, in one fell swoop?''

''Four strong, young buckos? Four d'you say? Hmmm… That might prove … problematic.'' Morrissey nodded, without his taut grin diminishing for an instant. ''It might, at that. But in all truth, Sol, I'm fairly certain that possibility has been … diminished now, and rather significantly, at this point.''

''And just how is that, Lee Henry, unless you've lied to me and you and the boy have in fact enlisted the aide of some snoopin', spyin' damnYankee lawmen in all this?'' Howell shouted, his patience thinning out, as his former commander seemed to enjoy playing some kind of damnfool game!

''… unless betraying us, betraying the Company when we have nearly done with all our grand endeavors was always in truth your intent!''

'' Solomon, my son and I have no such intention and you should know that by now. To say anything about the Company to any such putative authorities would be to instantly implicate us both just as much as any of you, if not more so. We are … despite what Eugenie says, still her blood-kin, still her only immediate family surviving.

Therefore it must needs appear to any of our adversaries that we know and we share my twin's motives and intentions far moreso than yourselves. Not only that, but if I'd so intended, after I've been gone from the Company for nearly a week, don't you think those same alleged authorities already would have come looking for all y'all?''

'' I'd have thought so.'' Howell agreed. ''Then I'm not to assume you've handed four of the Company over to what passes for local officers of damnYankee law around here, somewhere?''

'' I have not, in fact. I've done them even less harm than you've just seen me do to these four buckos. I've done nothing more than send Ian Christopher, J. Randolph, Adam and Brady … via a very well-paid courier, a runner, if you will, riding off on what I'm afraid will turn out to be a wild goose hunt. A small subterfuge, and one

I'm sure they will find out… within the next twenty four or thirty six, or so hours. But in that time, all that signifies anything to me will be… taken care of. You see, Solomon, I fully intend to return with you, to have one more, and I'm fairly sure it will be only one more conversation with Eugenie Isabelle. But Neddy will not. So, do you understand my intentions in full, now, old friend?''

''Daddy, you purely can't go on back there!'' Neddy cried out. ''Solly… he ain't

said so in so many words.

But I still figure Aunt 'genie wants us both as dead as doornails about now! I think she must've gone off her head but good, this time!''

'' Is that indeed what Eugenie Isabelle wants now, Sol? I would have thought you'd be man enough to tell me, if that were so.'' Morrissey said, turning eyes as silvery blue grey, with just as cold and measuring a gaze as his twins' on the Company's new commander.

''I've hardly had time to tell you much of anything, since you walked in here toting that shotgun, Lee Henry.'' Howell temporized.

''But I've helped you with that, so, you can tell me now, Solomon. You certainly were intimating that to be the case when I came in that door. So you tell me to my face, Solomon. Did my sister or did she not order you to murder my sole remaining child?''

''The General's Widow told me my orders were to seek out and destroy the both of you, Lee Henry. She also said those orders came directly from General Pascale, himself. '' Howell answered, thinking on his feet, seeing

that Morrissey was no less determined and no less convinced of his own rectitude than The Widow was of hers.

''So you can perhaps understand how much weight I felt was necessary be given to those orders. But then, then she proceeded to inform me that you'd either absconded with yourself, or sent the boy away with documents that could prove damning to us all. And that I had to act on. I have no intention of being imprisoned by damn Yankees, ever, ever again, and you should know that! So there's your answer, sir. And there's your boy, alive and well, despite the plain fact of the matter, which is I could have cut him down the moment I entered this bordello. And there's my next question, do you truly mean to go back and have words with The Widow, now?''

''I do, and I did, during this entire foray. And there are only one or two other, small but significant matters I will see taken care of before we take that journey. Neddy, listen to me now, son.''

' Yeah, Daddy?'' the boy in question asked, still shaking, but wholly sober

'' Son, I know you were tempted in this case, and clearly beyond your capacity. But still, you placed yourself in exactly the peril I meant you to escape. So, in what I ask you now, son, you must obey me and to the letter, for the sake of preserving all that signifies most to me, in fact that signifies to me at all, now. Do you understand now, Lee Edward Robert Morrissey? Have you understood me?'' Morrissey asked, never turning his gaze to the boy, lest he take too much attention from the still exceedingly dangerous Howell.

''Yes, sir.'' Neddy answered, swallowing hard, astonished by the almost unheard of use of his full name. ''Yes, father.''

''Very well, then. Re-collect your own gear, Neddy and stay here a moment or two longer.''

''Yes, sir.'' the boy said, obeying.

''And now, Solomon, old friend, because I know Neddy takes his oaths as solemnly as you and I do our own, you will formally release my son, Lee Edward Robert Morrissey from any and all oaths he took to follow the orders and the grand endeavors of the Company. He will no longer be considered as having any part in the Company's actions, nor will he be regarded as having deserted its cohort. Please, do as I ask, now, old friend, lest I feel the pressing need, after all, to blow your damn fool head off!'' Morrissey demanded, his fury at what nearly happened here almost slipping his steely control .

'' Lee Edward Robert Morrissey.'' Howell complied, well acquainted with prior consequences of Lee Henry's fury. '' You are hereby fully and without reservation released from any oaths, vows or promises made as regards the Company. You are no longer to be considered or to consider yourself any part of this cohort, nor are you considered as having deserted our alliance. Any claims to the contrary notwithstanding, this release will hold all the force of a legal abrogation of any

and all prior understandings.''

'' I … I … Daddy, I don't know what I oughta do, now. '' Neddy said, realizing to some extent, as he became still more sober , what the situation truly was here.

''You are to obey me, in every particular I now give you, Lee Edward. So, listen to me, now, and carefully. I have done you grievous wrongs, Lee Edward, the past three years and more, whilst I was busy seeking vengeance for your brothers. And I have only taken time in the past few months to consider, Lee Edward, whether Daniel Eamon, Jeremy Beauvais or Andrew Darcy would have wished … anything I have done, ostensibly in their name and for their Cause. And I have concluded, further damning my own soul in the process, that they would not.

You hardly knew your older brothers, Lee Edward. You are the child of my last, and in some ways happiest foray into matrimony. And they were already schoolboys when you were born. And I dearly loved their mother, Cira, and I very dearly loved and cherished my Emma, your momma, Lee Edward. Please do remember that. But you know about your brothers what I know, that they gave their own oaths to serve the Confederacy, and gave them willingly, and gave their young lives up … following those oaths.

Daniel Eamon could have given his parole when he was captured after the Second Wilderness. But he refused to do so, and was marched north to a Yankee prison and to his death. Jeremy Beauvais followed our great General Jackson to what some still think may have been our greatest, and our saddest victory, at Chancellorsville. And Andrew… Andrew Darcy rode up into Georgia, and back across the whole of Tennessee at least twice during the Conflict, to follow General Hood and died at Franklin.

They made those choices, their choices as grown men, despite their youth, Lee Edward. And it seems to me now I may have dishonored or at the very least wronged them all, trying to gainsay what they did with their young lives. '' Morrissey said, blinking back tears that brightened his blue grey gaze now. '' And when I realized I had only one child left to me… I knew I had to give him, give you, Lee Edward, the time and space and freedom to make your own choices, not mine, not Solomon's and not Eugenie's.

And that is what I mean to do, by any means necessary and at all costs. So you will obey me now, Lee Edward Robert, you will take your gear down to the stables behind this establishment, and from my own mount there, you will take the monies, bequests and bearer bonds I have put together for your maintenance. In fact, you will leave my saddlebags, Lee Edward and take my mount as your second, for the next leg of your journey. Then you will ride away from this place, this town and this Territory, as hard, as fast and as far as you possibly, possibly can.

You will not pause, except to change mounts and rest them both, Lee Edward, until you have put at least three days ride between yourself and Wyoming Territory. Please note, I do not tell you, nor do I wish to know from you, which compass point you choose to go in, now, with this one caveat. Lee Edward Robert, you must now solemnly assure me you will not ride within so much as a thousand miles of my twin, your aunt Eugenie, ever, ever again. Please give me your oath on that, and immediately, Lee Edward.''

'' My oath on that, sir. I will not ride within reach, or within so much as a thousand miles of 'aunt genie', ever. And Daddy…'' Neddy promised, trying hard not to shame himself or his father with the sob rising in his throat now.

'' I know you've never truly failed me, or at least, never wished to fail me, in any way that matters, Lee Edward. I have, until now, most appallingly failed you, son. And I … now can only hope to make amends as best I might, at this late date. I must only hope and pray you will not fail me now, son. Neddy, son, you simply… must not fail me in this.'' Morrissey insisted, similarly fighting his own urge to embrace the boy closely.

'' I won't, I won't fail you, Daddy, ever, ever again, I swear it!'' Neddy answered staunchly. ''But I'm… are you certain sure it ain't doin' just that to go on an' leave you, now?''

''It isn't. Not at all. So, just keep your oath to me, Neddy.'' Morrissey sadly directed. '' Ride away now, Neddy. At once, young master.'' Morrissey sadly directed, and the boy obeyed him, wide eyes bright with tears.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER FIVE North Platte, Nebraska, the 1870s

Teo Bracamante didn't like dying a bit. More precisely, he resented being ordered to have 'Tyler Pierce' depart this 'mortal vale', just when it seemed The Company itself might be entering its own death throes. The Creole had been working, along with Kiery Tanner, and his own cousin, Matty Randolph, applying pressure wherever it seemed most likely to cause just such cracks and fissures, to create just such doubts and suspicions among the band of murderers, for more than a year and a half now.

And they all believed they were only now beginning to see the pay-off! Orders were orders, however, and Teo was not one to dispute his orders, at least, not until he could do so face to face with his superiors. And whichever of his superiors decided to pull 'Tyler Pierce ' out of 'The Company', now, was surely going to get an earful from his alter ego, whether that turned out to be Jemmy Singer or the man he reported to, Thomas Macquillan, or "the Man' they all worked for and ultimately took orders from, that being President Ulysses Simpson Grant!

''Did I hear you correctly, Teo?'' Jemmy Singer asked, grinning and shaking his head, when the Creole launched his protest, within half a minute of their meeting again in North Platte.

''You want to take this up, take up your problem with these orders, after the fact, after you're already out of there, and dead as far as any of these bad guys know, with me, with Mac Macquillan, and with the President of the United States?''

'' I wouldn't mind doing so, not a bit.'' Teo answered, grinning fiercely back. ''Why, haven't you ever disagreed with the Man, to his face, yourself?''

'' Of course not!'' Jemmy exclaimed, laughing. '' Not ever?''

''Teo, old friend.'' Adam Gordonson intervened, chuckling warmly. '' What Jem's not telling you, although he was going to at any moment now, is that he was Regular Army, Medical Corps. And what that means, in this context, is that he truly never had a disagreement with any superior officer, until and unless the Army issued him one!''

'' I'd add to that, '' Jemmy nodded, grinning and rolling his eyes at his partner. ''that you're certainly welcome to take this up with 'the Man, mi amigo muy loco.

But I'll buy out the house for tickets to see you or just about anyone stand face to face with Ulysses Grant and tell him he made a bad decision!''

'' But I've never once heard you say he won't accept another opinion. And anyway, I don't think the President of the United States, even though we all know he wrote his own dispatches during the War, exactly has time, these days, to be issuing orders to Federal agents he's never so much as laid eyes on, yet. So, these orders, the ones that pulled me out of the Company, came from you, Jemmy, or they came from Mr. Mac, so suppose you tell me, which one of you made this bad decision?'' Teo asked, making himself frown at his mentor and friend.

'' That would be … him, Teo.'' Macquillan answered, earning an exasperated look from his protégé. '' I wasn't in on that meeting. And Adam has sworn up and down on many occasions in the past several years he won't take lead, much less senior agent, ever again.''

''And I won't. That role just doesn't give the one holding it enough leeway, or enough elbow room.'' Adam laughed, but Teo noted, with a touch of regret in his dark, bright eyes.

''So, it was your decision, Jemmy. And I'd like to know, I'd really like to know why you made it. The Company's already divided, and is only going to break up more and worse, if we keep the pressure up. So why…''

'' I think that was really my fault, Teo.'' a deep, warm voice Teo knew but couldn't' place at first answered, and the Creole turned to find Cooper Smith crutching into the room. '' Jemmy seems to think you took more than enough of a risk with those locos, doing what you did to keep me alive that day, much more and they'd likely catch on to your not exactly bein' on their side of things. And I can't help but agree with the boy, if just this once. You took an awful risk on behalf of someone you'd never set eyes on before then. And you did keep me alive, and got my horse outa there too, so I'm glad of the chance to thank you.''

'' I'm glad to see you looking so much improved.'' Teo nodded. taking and

pumping the hand Coop offered. '' I guess Jemmy's not such a bad doctor, after all, considering he doesn't' get much practice in these days.''

'' Oh, Cooper's improvement comes at no thanks to Jem.'' Mac jibed. '' None at all. Our new friend Cooper needed Danny Hoffner and myself to come to his aid after the beating he took. So, Jemmy wired us, saying he'd come up a little short-handed, you see.''

Now Jemmy groaned at an old joke he'd started himself, and shook his head. '' Teo, maybe you didn't clearly understand my 'dispatch'. I didn't order you off the case. I ordered you to get 'Tyler Pierce' out of The Company' and away from the lunatics running it.

And from what we've heard in the meantime, coming from the other fellows still in place, is that 'poor Ty' lost his drunken bet with that crazed stallion at a good point. The Company's on the move again. They split up in small groups, as usual, according to what you and the others already told us, and they're headed farther north in Wyoming Territory.

We don't know who all their current targets are. That's the bad news. The good news is we know for certain sure that one of their targets is my cousin Jess Harper, and I've already sent him a word of warning. And the rest of the good news is partly what you last sent, Teo, that the Company's not just one man down now, it's three down. Lee Henry Morrissey and his son, Lee Edward rode out and neither of them has been seen at their quarters just east of Cheyenne in weeks.

Now, to backtrack a bit, we also know now why your former employers didn't know about the resemblance between my two east Texas cousins. And I've already apologized to Cooper on this, so don't expect to get anymore fun out of it. As it turns out, one of The Company's riders, and two of their informants got themselves arrested, as drunk and disorderly, back in Lincoln. And they were the ones who were tracking the Hale train, tracking Melissa Burke and her little boy, I'm terribly sad to say, at first. You'd know the one, Teo, a tall, rangy, lacksidaisical seeming fellow, calls himself Dev Jackson?''

'' I do, and he's just as crazy, and just as wild as any of the rest of them. And Devlin never said a word about being arrested either. Not that I'm surprised. In that bunch it'd be a truly bad idea to let on you'd been within striking distance of any lawmen. It'd be worth your life, in fact. So, if I'm still on this case, Jemmy, what do I do next, aside from keeping well out of The Company's line of fire?''

'' Next you finish your report, my friend. And then you take a couple, three days to a week off. You just spent more than a year walking around in the skin of a genuinely crazed killer, Teo. And what we've all learned to our own grief, more than once, is you can't go that long without needing to work some kinks out.''

''So I was right to begin with!'' Teo exclaimed, frowning, his Creole temper rising. ''I'm being benched here! You're sidelining me, Jemmy! And I still don't see where that helps anyone…''

''Then take a deep breath, throw some cold water on that easygoing temper of yours, Teodor Ulises, _mi buen amigo_, and get ready for a surprise that just might change your obdurate Creole mind, damn it!'' Jemmy demanded. He was inordinately proud of his young protégé's resolve, and very grateful for his daring under fire. But in this situation, especially with his own mentor, Thomas Macquillan observing, Jemmy knew he had to take a harder line than he wished.

Seeing Teo's frown lighten to something more like confusion, the North Carolinian nodded to Adam Gordonson, standing on the other side of the room. That cue given, the actor-agent winked, bowed and opened the far door to their suite.

''Come in, come in, young friend!'' Adam invited the broad-shouldered youth standing across that threshold. ''No one here is anything but glad to see you safely away from those madmen.''

''I purely hope that's so.'' the newcomer answered, and stepped out of the late afternoon shadows in the rear hallway, into the 'parlour' of the suite, showing himself to have wide, bright grey-blue eyes and a thatch of sandy hair above his wide, clear brow and molded features.

'' But I wouldn't blame at least some of y' fellas if y' didn't feel like welcomin' me all that much. Figure those'd mostly be you, Mistuh Smith, sir, an' yer friend, Mistuh Hale, an you, Ty… that is, Mistuh …''

''Neddy?'' Teo exclaimed. ''Neddy Morrissey, what in the very devil are you doing here, boy?''

'' M' Daddy told me to git on outa Wyomin' Territory, Ty… Ty… mean to say…

Mistuh Bracamante… He was real clear on that point, real clear. An' when I'd just commenced to do that, I found m' self tailed by a couple of fellas it turns out warn't with the Company, neither, but with … well all y'all… Them bein' Chris Phillipsen an' Rand Alexander. Seems like they … waited on me to come on out of th' sorta kinda confab m' Daddy an' me ended up havin' with … some of th' other fellas… ''

'' Mostly with Solomon Howell, would be my first guess, is that right, Neddy?'' Teo asked, glad the boy seemed comfortable enough with him to go on confiding.

'' That's exactly right… An' I told 'em… Rand an' Chris… reckon Chris ain't called that… but Rand is… anyhow, I told 'em it was real likely I woulda come lookin' for some fellas like … all y'all.. anyhow, seein' as how I haveta figure m' Daddy's in a mortal lot of trouble his own self by this time… If… he ain't already been purely murdered.

He kinda figured that could be what'd happen, y' see, even b'fore m' aunt 'genie went all th' way off her nut an' told th' boys t' do fer both m' Daddy an' me! An' Daddy he went ahead an' writ a lot of stuff down, some fer … well, reckon some of it fer all y'all an' some fer me. An' he give it me to give … y'all, or t' whomever I could give it. ''

'' And I'm sure that will help our case against those killers to a great extent, Neddy.'' Jemmy encouraged the boy. '' It won't hurt your father, in the eyes of the court, either, that he would be willing to hand such evidence over, when it's plainly against his own self interest. ''

Now, Neddy surprised the physician agent by shaking his head morosely.

'' Daddy, well… he an' me both figure none of y'all would feel much like helpin' neither him nor me, cos of what rotten, awful things we done, already. An' he's awfully 'shamed of thet… so 'm I… truly.

So we figure if all y'all don' feel much like helpin' … us, helpin' Daddy now, or me… that's nothin' but th' way y' oughta be feelin' cos of how we done ye… an… them other folks, whilst we was in th' Comp'ny.'' the youngest and last son of Lee Henry Morrissey shrugged and ducked his head, staring unhappily at his boot tips, as if they were the source of all his current trouble. But after a minute he looked up again and strode across the room to look Cooper Smith in the eye, albeit still nervously.

'' Mistuh Smith, I don't figure on y' takin' m' word fer this, but 'm … I've had me some time fer thought, as they say, an' I'm right sorry, truly, I went in on th' poundin' we gave y'. An' m' right glad t' see y' ain't … y' seem t' have prett much come back from it, suh. An' it weren't only m' Daddy tellin me to say so. Havin some time… I got it figured we was.. I was plumb wrong to go in on that, suh, whether y' was in th' 8th Texas or no, thet was real wrong, suh.''

Coop glanced at Jemmy for a second, just barely nodding in recognition and agreement with his cousin. Then the scout turned back to study the youth intently for another moment, knowing it might stretch the boy's nerves a bit, but wouldn't otherwise harm him to wait on an answer.

''Your young uncle rode with my cousin Jess, in the 8th, with Terry's Rangers, is what I heard from Jemmy. Is that right?'' Coop asked, liking the pluck this youngster showed, more than he wanted to let on, just yet.

''Yes, suh. Thet was m' namesake, after a manner of speakin', m' uncle Neddy was named Edward Denys Augustin, fer granddaddy… '' the boy nodded.

''But m' Daddy was named Lee Henry Richard fer ol' Lighthorse Harry Lee, an' named me Lee Edward Robert, fer ol' Bobbie Lee, b'fore Th' Conflict ever got itself started up. M' uncle Neddy .. he was getting' ready to ride on over to Texas to sign on with one of their cavalry companies, when the boys in Th' 8th stopped off in N'Olins, afore they went on up to Th' shootin' war. I din't know him all thet well, o' course, bein' I was prett young, back then. But even if he didn't look it, an' I hear he didn't much, uncle Neddy surely could ride an' shoot with the best, reckon that was what they needed most, back then.

He took some real bad hurt when th' fightin' got bad around Atlanta, uncle Neddy did, an' went inta one of them r'cievin' hospitals, there. Heard tell that was a real bad time, back then, to go inta one of them … Reckon m' uncle Neddy an' some of those boys thet went in there, came out kinda th' worse for wear… ''

'' That's so.'' Coop agreed. '' A lot of them came out with some real bad problems. And I'm sorry, son, if your uncle was one of those. And I know my cousin Jess will be sorry to know that about his old friend, too.''

''Reckon … '' the boy nodded. '' Anyhow, ifn m' Daddy don't get to … Mistuh Smith…''

'' Mister Smith was my Daddy.'' the Texan smiled. '' So maybe you could think about calling me Coop, and maybe letting me call you Ned?''

'' Neddy'll do just fine… Coop. But, d' ye mind m' askin' a question?''

'' Nope, not if you don't mind my deciding if I'll answer it.'' Coop answered.

''Oh, oh, surely. I just haven't got something figured, exactly. Whyn't you just sing out an' say yer not thet … I mean, thet yer not yer cousin?'' Neddy finally blurted, as the others in the room, mostly strangers to him did their best not to chuckle.

Coop grinned as wide as the Braxos though. '' Well, Neddy, the fact of the matter is, I didn't think on it too much at the time. But it strikes me now that you fellas weren't real likely to b'lieve me if I had said as much that day. What else would a fella say in that situation? 'Hey, boys, y've got the wrong man here!''

''Y'er truly not … y'er not wantin' to get back at me?'' Neddy probed.

'' Nope.'' Coop shook his head and glanced at Chris Hale, only now joining them. Then the scout turned back to Neddy.'' Now, that's not th' way I felt when I first came around, you understand. But… Neddy, with some time, like you said yourself

to think it through, I realize I just wouldn't be doing what my Daddy thought right, if I held this in my craw…In fact, I'd say I'm even surer that's true now than I was … just a few weeks back. You see, my Daddy was never one to hold a grudge, no matter what. And I'd like to be more like him, in a lot of ways, so I'm starting with this one. ''

'' Neddy, I'm real glad to see you, and glad you got safe away. '' Teo said, putting one long hand on the youngster's shoulder, '' But, since I just got here, why don't you sit down and tell me what all happened with you and your father? I know you two didn't leave the Company together. Maybe my friends… our friends here can get Lee Henry out of whatever trouble he might be in, now.''

'' 'm not sure anybody can get thet done, not now, T… '' Neddy said, shaking his head as he once more started to call the Creole by his pseudonym.

''Teo. '' the Creole smiled, leading the boy to a seat by the long window seat against the south wall of this hired room. '' And your father asked me to keep a watchful eye on you, which was another reason I wasn't too glad to be called back, and another reason I'm glad you're safe, now.

The youngster teared up at that, and blinked hard, trying to hide it. ''Daddy never did want me ridin' with th' Company. Time an' again, he'd ask me to go off with him on one of his reconnoiters, an then jus' stay put wherever it was he'd went to… He said I warn't getting even half th' schoolin' a fella needs these days, just for starters, except schoolin' in how to sneak 'round an' … an' fight an' shoot an'… lay some real bad hurt on folks…

Daddy said time an' again he was scared I'd turn out like 'berto, er Devlin, er ol' Moray, er Zeke, er Solly… purely crazed th' way they are, y'see, likin' all that… But, T…Teo, right about now I'm scared nearly outa my head they already done for m' Daddy!… An' I don' figure he'd fight 'em off none, onct I rode out, Cause, he writ down thet he figured he had it comin!''

'' Maybe he thought that way, Neddy. Maybe so. But seeing the trouble Lee Henry went to, to make sure you were safe, I can't agree.'' Teo told the boy solemnly, and meant it. What else I know though, is that Lee Henry would never once grudge saving your life by giving up his own. ''So we have to honor his decision, his thought on that, now, don't we?''

''Reckon.'' Neddy nodded sadly. ''Reckon so.''

''Neddy,'' Coop said, joining the two former members of 'the Company', and smiling kind-heartedly at the boy, again. '' maybe what you need to figure in to this, to understand it, is something I've been working on understandin' myself, just lately.

Daddies, I'm beginnin' to understand, do things for reasons their sons, or their daughters may never entirely know, much less figure out. And that can be especially the case, when they're not … right around to ask. And when that happens, we just have to trust that they were only doing what they'd want us to do, in a like case. Now, that's just what's beginning to make sense for me, it might not for you.''

'' It… it mi' mebbee… I'll surely think on it… Coop.'' the boy answered, still feeling awkward with the man's positive regard. '' I will.''

''Well, if you three wise old heads are done pondering the mysteries of fatherhood, for now,'' Chris Hale laughed, walking up behind Coop, earning a chagrined smile from his chief scout. '' do you suppose we can all go in to supper? I'm hungry!''

''Sure, Chris. Sure.'' Coop answered, laughing in turn. '' But you know, I'm worried that you're getting spoiled, being away from Charlie Wooster's cooking all this time! Neddy, this irascible, half starved fellow, is Chris Hale, my boss, my … g-dfather and my Daddy's oldest friend.''

''That won't last much longer, though. And once I'm back to work, the benefit is, I'll lose this weight! And Coop's wrong about that, Neddy. I don't have the honor of being Danny Smith's oldest friend. That went to his cousin, Franklin Harper, who was three years older than Danny and all but grew up at the Smith house!'' Chris grinned, creasing his weather-beaten features, and held out his hand to the boy.

''Mistuh Hale, I'm … right glad t' know y' suh. '' Neddy said, wondering if this older man would show the anger with him and his part in the Company and more to the point, in the beating Cooper Smith took, he'd expected from all these strangers and found in none. But the youngster saw no sign of that in the Gloucesterman's eyes or his smile and so took the hand offered him and pumped it vigorously.

''And I'm glad to know you, son.'' Chris said, and meant it. What he didn't say was the other reason for the proud smile on his face, just now, that being the compassion Coop showed the boy. ''Why don't you come sit with me, instead of those somber fellows, and tell me something more about your father?''


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SIX east-west road between Laramie and Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

Jess Harper rode two days east and some ways south, now, since Jemmy's letter said he and his friends meant to stop and confab about the troubles 8th Texans were having, at North Platte. Riding alone and traveling light, he and Traveler were making good time and coming close to Pine Bluffs, one of the railroad's newer 'towns' just barely opened up. And today, which had come up cloudy and then turned clear and warm, the Texan found his thoughts still full of the things Daisy had said, and memories of his family, but good ones, now.

Francie wrote she believed she was going to have a little boy. Jess however found himself wishing she'd have a girl, one who would grow up like their mother, Jenny Harper, with her wise, wide grey eyes, clear features, and soft brownish-auburn hair, or like their Aunt Beth Smith, with freckles all over a perfect oval face, deep-set grey-blue eyes and chestnut-red hair.

Or maybe the G-d he'd been taught to believe was rigorously just, would send Francie and Ben a little girl who looked like one of the little sisters they'd both lost so long ago, dark-haired, grey eyed eight year old Lissy, named for Beth Cooper Smith, or one of the twins, the very youngest Harpers, four year old copper-penny redheaded, green-eyed Miri or hazel-eyed Merey, each named for one of their grandmothers.

[Not_ that I'd truly argue it with G-d,_] Jess told himself. [If_ he sent Francie _

_a black-Irish, bright blue eyed son, like Daddy, or a towheaded, wide-grey-green eyed 'burst of sunshine' like Alec, who was only six that last summer, always was!]_

Now Jess had to smile at himself, and send another mental thank you back to Daisy Cooper. Somehow, in one conversation, in some way the young Texan didn't wholly understand, she'd made remembering his lost folks and siblings something warm and good, instead of being only the grounding for his nightmares. And they had been mostly the latter for so long he couldn't truly recall a time, after the fire when he had any ease at all in thinking of them. Now instead, he was thinking like a brother again, and, even more strange to consider, like an uncle! And that latter was largely Daisy's doing, too. Without the widow Cooper's whirlwind arrival at the Sherman ranch, little Mike could have been taken to a foundling home, or at best to other fosterage…

And that, Jess knew, would have broken his own heart, and Mike's and Slim's. [And_ Daisy thinks we were a 'gift' to her?]_ Jess shook his head. [Figure_ I shouldn't tell Daisy any different, at this late date. But, there've surely been times I'd be real glad to thank the con artists who sent Daisy Cooper west, lookin' for 'Sherman, Wyoming'! _]

Now a gasping sound that had no place being on this empty road on a fine spring day brought Jess' head snapping up out of his reverie, and his right hand dropping to thumb the thong loose from his revolver. There it was again! A low groaning was coming from what looked to be a much less used branching of the road, off to his right. And in the next instant, it was followed by a sound that made even less sense being here, a woman's sobs!

''_Keep your eyes open on the road, Jess.''_ the Texan heard Slim saying again, and nodded his agreement. But Jemmy's letter said nothing about a woman being involved with the killers he and his partners had been tracking.

Sending it before the he left Fort Kearney, Jemmy had only noted that a great many veterans of the 8th Texas cavalry had been targeted in the last three years, some of them attacked and beaten, some of them murdered outright, by persons or persons whose identities and motives were still 'under investigation'. Cautious as always in the way he framed what he said and wrote, Jemmy had only asked Jess to come east to see if working together they could 'figure' why this was being done or by whom. And Jemmy mentioned trying to meet up with Cooper as well, since the older Texan would be somewhere along the California trail with the train he scouted for.

That at least would make things easier between Jess and Jemmy, if only because Coop wasn't likely to let his younger cousins fuss and fume too awfully much over 'the bad, old days' in east Texas, when from Jess' perspective, they had their falling out. It was funny, in a way, Jess considered, as he wheeled Traveler carefully around to scan the road in all directions, that he still considered and normally called himself an 'east Texan', rather than referring to the few short years spent up on the Panhandle, as indicating where he came from at all.

'All right, Trav.'' Jess said quietly to the bay that in some ways was his oldest friend. '' I don't see or hear anything but what sounds like some folks in trouble, off there in that copse of trees. Let's have a look-see, boy. But let's be ready to light out of here on the double-quick, should this be someone not so very friendly, right?''

Now, Jess followed not so much the road tracking off to his right as the wagon or more likely, carriage tracks, too light to be made by a buckboard's stouter, sturdier wheels. As he rode down into the grass, thinking it would have otherwise been a good place to let Traveler rest and graze, Jess noted tracks from at least two 'rigs' of the fancier, lighter sort he'd mainly seen being driven in larger towns like Cheyenne, so the young Texan knew he might find anywhere from one to half a dozen people hurt.

It could be tricky, he knew, taking smaller, lighter carriages out on roads more suited for wagons or riders like himself. These tracks ran no more than four or five yards from the main road and abruptly stopped. Following the sobbing sounds, the Texan soon found out why that was. A single, fancy, lightweight Eastern style gig lay overturned on a grassy swale beside a small lake.

A lot of hoof prints running into and over each other made it hard to read just how many horses had been pulling the gig, or had been ridden just lately in the grass here. No horses were left here now. Instead, a woman, dressed head to toe in deep, black mourning, sat beside the lightweight gig, that Jess thought might be called a phaeton, her veil thrown back, her black gloved hands up to her face, sobbing.

''Ma'am?'' Jess called out, riding closer, still looking around for whoever ran this woman off the road and left her stranded here. ''Ma'am?'' he called again when she gave no sign of either hearing or seeing him. ''Are you hurt? Is anyone else there with you? Can I help you, ma'am?''

[_Nothing for it, boy, you're gonna have to get down and find out how she is._] The Texan thought and swung down, ground-tying Traveler in place. Stepping closer, Jess called out more quietly to the woman, who finally looked up and blinked at him as if, the Texan thought, she was half-waking, or more likely, in a state of shock.

''Ma'am? M' names' Harper, Jess Harper. And I'm … I don't mean you any harm, not any harm at all. '' Jess told her.

The woman only now seemed to focus on him, and now, Jess got a better look at her. She was surely 'handsome' with striking, molded features and light hair, bound back the way he'd seen some female stage passengers do, rolled high and tight in back, with some strands escaping around her heart-shaped face. Jess didn't try to guess her age, thinking he could never tell and would only 'put his foot in it' by trying, only she was surely no longer a young girl.

But her wide eyes caught the Texan's attention and held it, bright with unshed tears. They were an astonishing silvered-grey in color. And now they locked onto Jess' face, as if they would either memorize or outright devour everything they saw. When she finally spoke, Jess was struck again, her voice was musical and commanding, throaty and refined all at once, and full of an intensity of grief such as the Texan thought he'd never heard before.

'' My brothers!'' she cried out. ''My dearest, dearest brothers are lost! They're lost forever!''

Jess glanced around the grassy space again, the copse of trees, the lakeside and saw no one else here at all. As far as Jess could tell without walking further away from the woman, she was the only other person here, beside himself. And where that might not explain why she was calling out about her brothers, it didn't change the plain fact that she was in distress. And if she was hurt, Jess considered, he couldn't exactly go rushing off to search the trees or the lakeside for any other folks who might have been with her, or who might have attacked her, here.

''My brothers! Oh, my poor, dear boys! They're both lost! ''The woman called out again, bringing Jess' full attention back to her and her trouble.

'' Ma'am, if it's alright, I'm going to come over now, and see if maybe you took some hurt.'' Jess offered. When she made no response, he took another couple of steps closer. And then he was shocked again. Somehow, this distraught woman didn't seem aware of the overturned gig, the confusing tracks that seemed to show horses being run off or running off from here, her own 'mussed appearance', as Jess thought Daisy would describe it or anything at all in her surroundings. The woman, in fact, as Jess got closer, looked to be amazingly unhurt, despite the wrecked state of her small carriage.

[You_ don't know she's not hurt. She could have all sorts of internal injuries. She could have hit her head, but not hard enough to cut it. She could be in some sort of shock, or close to it. Get a grip, boy! She's a woman out here by herself for Pete's sake, and some low-lifes got her off the road and stole her horses! _] Jess chided himself, thinking he surely hoped someone would stop to help Francie or Daisy, G-d forbid they were ever in trouble like this!

''Ma'am, '' Jess said again, now within half a yard of the woman in mourning. ''Did you fall out of the carriage? Did your team slip the traces? Can you tell me at all what happened to you, ma'am?'' Jess asked, and when she didn't say no, stepped closer to her. She turned her silvery grey eyes on him again, once more looking as if she'd only now realized someone else was there. She blinked at Jess, very much as if she was just waking up, and peered at him, intently. She was a striking figure, no way around that, lithe and willowy, and strong in an odd way, even sitting in the grass, wringing her hands.

'' My brothers…'' she whispered now, and shook her head, with a tremulous expression somewhere between smiling and weeping. ''I was … just dreaming of my brothers. But they're gone, now. Both of them have … passed away, the poor, poor dears. They're gone. I'm quite alone, now.''

'' I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am.'' Jess told her, thinking he was better off not asking her how long ago these brothers passed away. '' I truly am. Can I help you, now? Did you get hurt, ma'am, when your rig turned over?''

'' I? Did I … I'm sorry, sir, I don't believe I know you. '' The woman said, not even seeming to understand most of what Jess was saying. '' Have we been introduced?''

[That_ settles it. She must've hit her head._ ] Jess decided. ''No, ma'am. We haven't. My name's Jess Harper, ma'am. I heard … it sounded like someone might be in trouble back here, so I came on over. And it looks to me as though you did have some kind of trouble…with your carriage. But it doesn't look to weigh very much.

So, I might be able to get it righted for you, ma'am. But you just stay right there a bit longer, and if I can't right the rig, we'll get you to a doc on my horse. He's a good fellow, and real gentle with ladies, I … I named him Traveler.'' Jess added, not sure why he told her that.

' Traveler, for our beloved General Lee's proud battle-steed?'' the woman asked, sounding delighted as a child. ''Why, how very fine of you!''

'' It just seemed like a good name for him, ma'am.'' Jess nodded. ''Even when th' fightin' was …all over, it still seemed like a good name. Course, I knew the General's Traveler was iron-grey, and stood sixteen hands high, everybody did. ''

''I believe our dear General Lee once remarked that his Traveler was 'a Confederate grey'. '' She answered, and went on as if making conversation at a social. ''You are a Southron, then, aren't you? But not from my own home in Louisiana, I think.''

''No, ma'am, I was born and raised in east Texas, near Nacogdoches.'' Jess told her, and turned to look at the upside-down rig, again. It might take some figuring, but he thought he could get it upright. On the other hand, if she was badly hurt, as her confused state suggested, the best thing, Jess considered might be to let her ride on Trav, with Jess doubled behind. Or, if she thought that wasn't proper, he could lead, and head them on into the closest town, a fairly new railroad spur called Pine Bluffs. It wasn't that far, really. That might be best, after all, as the quickest way to get her to a doctor.

[But_ how do I convince a lady who might just be confused by a fall, or might be off her head completely, that she needs a doctor?_ _If she's just confused it might scare her. And if she's worse off than that, who knows how she'd take to that idea? Here's where I could surely use some more of your advice, Daisy. I think you'd say the quicker ways the better, here. _]

''Ma'am,'' Jess started to say, as he turned back towards the woman. ''You could ride Traveler, if you'd rather…''

He got no further, before something awfully hard struck the back of his head, near the base. Dizzied, Jess tried to turn towards his attacker, only to find there were suddenly at least a dozen attackers on and around him, unless he was already seeing double. The object, which out of the corner of his eye, looked to be a rifle butt, struck Jess again, but across his gut, now, taking the Texan swiftly to his knees, doubled over.

The person wielding the rifle as if it were a baseball bat Jess got only the flashing impression of. He was tall, with wild black hair and flashing, almost twitching grey eyes as icy as a hurricane blast making its deadly autumn landfall on Galveston Island. And he was swinging the rifle a third time, or fourth time now, directly at the young Texan.

''What th' hell?'' Jess demanded, and whirled, or tried to, reaching for his revolver. But the man with the rifle, or someone right beside him was moving faster, faster than Jess thought anyone else could, pulling the Texan's revolver away, pulling Jess away from the rig, and with an iron grip, pulling Jess back towards, not the copse of trees, but the road!

Are_ they that reckless, or just that crazed? Are they handin' me the chance to grab Traveler's reins, to catch the woman, to get the hell away from them, away from here? Are there only three of them?_ Jess wondered, but his answer came too soon for anything more than his wondering, as someone towards the back of the mob around him, fired what sounded more like a shotgun than a rifle.

Suddenly a wave of fire ran high up through Jess' right shoulder and he fell to the ground before he could even try to catch his balance, his right arm hanging limp, a searing, likely bone breaking wound in or near his right collarbone. From the grassy swale, Jess kicked and flailed at his attackers, pushing and swearing as he regained his feet. And now he tried again to turn, and see what they might be doing to the strange-eyed woman. She wasn't making a sound now, that he could hear, and that couldn't be a good sign, the young Texan thought.

_These must be the bastards who attacked her, a lot of lousy, sneaking cowards! _Jess just had time to think as he glimpsed the woman being pushed, limp as a rag doll, up onto Traveler!

''Yeah, you're a real prize crew, aren't you?'' Jess snarled, as the men around him tried to grab his arms, his legs, or his feet again.

'' Robbing defenseless women and then leaving them in the middle of nowhere, just to help you jump a fellow from behind? Is that what you do for a living, or just to get your fun?''

''Both.'' the rifle's wielder answered bluntly. But now, as Jess made another lunge towards Traveler and the woman, another of his attackers, or maybe the same one, swung the rifle again and connected viciously with Jess' left leg, well above the knee, then swung again and struck hard at the left side of Jess' head, now. Either his head or his whole frame was spinning now. Jess couldn't really tell, that last blow was somehow even more painful than the first, his head and his ears were still ringing. Once more, Jess went down, but kicking, flailing, cussing a blue streak, and hearing Slim say '_keep your eyes open on the road, Jess.' _

The left side of his head and his face was wet, and warm, not a good sign at all. But Jess couldn't' seem to raise his hand now to make sure he wasn't just sweating. He was struggling against what seemed like more and more rock hard fists and sharp toed boots all the time, dozens of them, it felt like, by now. He was on his face on the grass, and they were still getting their licks in.

_If they want to kill me for my horse and gear and guns, why haven't they done for me by now?_ Jess wondered. Dang it, I raised that horse from a pup! Jess found himself thinking furiously, if fuzzily, now. _Dang it, I raised that horse from a pup!_ Jess found himself thinking furiously, if fuzzily, now. _And not to have a bunch of yahoos steal him! Dang it, Trav, take off, boy! Get her out of here, at least, can't you? Dang it, Slim, whyn't I take the stage to Cheyenne, and train on east to see Jemmy? _

Now something more was added, though, from someone Jess hadn't seen or even sensed coming at him. His assailant jammed something long, and very cold, into the young Texan's left arm. Jess gasped, face down on the ground and struggled even harder. But not one, but five, or maybe more pairs of hands now held him, pinned like a calf for branding. And while they held on, their knife-sharp, needle-thin weapon was torn out and driven back into Jess' side, into his arm again and then his lower back. The thick, pea-soup fog cold from the needle, was spreading through him, from each point of entry, each site it found now, filling his arms, his chest, and his limbs…

Jess was still fighting, but it was hard to even keep breathing now. Their new weapon was a hypodermic needle, the Texan didn't need to see it to know. Jess knew nothing else that thin, that sharp or quite that cold. Meanwhile, his attackers weren't bothering to strike Jess, kick or even hold him down, now. _No they're just … loading me with the …rotten, infernal, damned drug! Why th' bloody hell would …_''Why would they drug… '' Jess whispered, without realizing he was, just barely, speaking his thoughts aloud.

'' You'll understand, with time, Harper. I do most earnestly avow you. You'll understand all, with time.'' another, much deeper, icier voice answered, from what seemed very far away. And Jess thought he knew its owner, certain sure…But knowing anything, sure or otherwise, was getting harder by the minute. The drug was working strongly on him, Jess knew, already, because without being clipped hard across the jaw, or hitting his head when he was tripped by one of these cowards, Jess' head was spinning again, and so was the world around him.

Couldn't keep m' feet if they let me stand, 'bout now, reckon. An' Slim is gonna have a field day with this, tellin' me I'm never near as careful as I tell him he needs t' be! An' Pard, figure I'll be danged glad t' hear y' laughin' at ol' Jess here, s'pposin' I get th' chance again! ]

Jess could almost feel his thoughts slipping, slowing, and crawling as if in a late spring mudslide… [No, no, the damnedest, worst freezing cold and mud, an' mudslides came in th' winters in Virginia… even some parts of Tennessee an' Georgia!] Jess just managed to recall now.

We'd either be crawlin', pullin' our mounts, watchin' th' pack mules, th' mule teams, all fall an' … drown… in th' mud ourselves or watchin' the damn Yankees try it… an' couldn't move so much as one tenth, one hundredth of a mile at a time! An'… what were all us good, wild-hearted, brave boys from east Texas, from … all over … Mississippi, Missouri, Louisiana… What were we doin' up there, anyhow? An' why does that come back up … now?

''Boys from east Texas, Mississ… even Louisi …what were we … doin'?'' ' Jess whispered, [Hold on! Hold on, boy! Am I … I'm passin' out, that's all! That's all, I hope! I'm just… that's it, just go on, boy, go back … on th' drift… You were th' gift to us, Daisy Cooper, not t'other way around… should've told … ''should've told … '' Jess murmured, losing this fight, the one to stay conscious

'' They were fighting heroically, as always for Our Magnificent Homeland! They were struggling valiantly, and forever, for Our Glorious Cause! '' Heydon Palmerston Moray answered, completely ignoring the rest of what his captive said.

''That was not badly done, gentlemen.'' Moray turned and told the Company members with him. ''Not badly done at all. Although I suppose we could have subdued the young miscreant with somewhat more celerity. Let's see what Herself has to say on the matter. Missus Pascale, your servant, ma'am.'' the Charleston native said, bowing as The Widow rode closer. ''I trust we've done the thing to your satisfaction, Fair Lady.''

'' What? Oh, yes… yes… the … I am …satisfied, yes, Heydon Palmerston. '' The Widow responded, a bit distractedly, blinking at him from Traveler's saddle. She'd grown almost faint while the sortie proceeded, almost swooning, in fact.

She'd turned away from the melee… abruptly not able to watch what she'd brought about by her own devices. '' I'd forgotten … I suppose I'd forgotten…'' She murmured, staring down at the now unconscious Jess.

''Ma'am?'' Moray asked, wondering if he'd somehow given something away. "What had you forgotten?"

''… How very young he would be. I was told, I do recall being told his age… '' The Widow went on, seeming also strangely oblivious to the men around her, except for the young Texan.

''Dear Lady,'' Moray said, apprehensively, as he was the one who'd told her Jess was three, almost four years her 'Neddy's' senior. '' He is a man grown, and more than capable of answering for any prior bad acts. And that has been your intent, all this while, ma'am.

And I believe you have every right to so intend, that this troublesome … person be called to account, finally, for his … transgressions against you, to put it mildly. This is what you have been greatly desirous of all this while, is it not, mum?'' the Charleston native asked, switching to the quasi-aristocratic, pseudo-royal usage and manner he knew she took great pleasure in.

''Yes, yes, of course, Heydon Palmerston,'' Pascale replied, seeming to recollect and almost re-collect herself and her milling thoughts. '' Of course that… this is what I've been so greatly desirous of, these many years, now.''

''Will you … May we ask the favor of having you address the Company as regards this sortie, presently, mum?'' Moray asked, smiling to himself and relaxing a bit as the madwoman seemed to come back closer to the present instance.

'' What? Oh, surely. Surely. '' Pascale nodded, and turned her gaze to the knot of men standing around the upturned carriage and her fallen would-be 'rescuer'.

'' Gentlemen, we have at long last, after five, nearly six years planning, effort, exertion and industry, accomplished what was imperative all this while, in order that the final goals of the grand endeavors might be fulfilled. You have all done your duty, and very commendably today. And you shall be rewarded, I assure you. The General will demand commendations for you all, from the very highest authorities. And they will issue them, just as your Commander requests, out of their deep respect and high regard for his long and loyal service… and your own. What has been the longest, most strenuous portion of our grand endeavors has today, very capably been concluded.

What may indeed be the most taxing of our duties still lie before us. We

have made, all of us, solemn oaths to see this Great Work through to its realization. We have, all of us, sacrificed and endured, together. Now we face the arduous task of dealing justly with our antagonists, having so honorably vanquished them, at last.

Those of the Company, who have remained staunchly loyal to us, now have the onerous duty of sitting in judgment on those whose devotion wretchedly failed. And as you are all True Southrons, I know you will carry out that charge with the utmost righteousness and discernment. For now, until we have all arranged for your just decision in those cases, when you're quite done here, you all have General's greatest esteem and his thanks.''

Pascale held out her hand now, and Moray immediately reached to help her dismount. She'd been riding since she could sit upright, doubling with one or the other of her parents. So her gesture and his response weren't strictly necessary. But The Widow liked her niceties, and so did the South Carolinian. He then walked her to the elegantly appointed landau she'd actually ridden in to the lakeshore today. There her omnipresent body servants, 'Phillips' and 'Jaimey' waited as always, and as always, handed 'Herself' up to the finely upholstered seat.

Neither manservant spoke so much as syllable, nor had they ever done so in Moray's hearing. He'd wondered, in fact at times, if the pair were deaf or mute or both. They were of no matter, in fact, to the Charleston native. They might be, according to damnYankee laws technically freedmen. But to Moray, as he suspected to Pascale, they would be her bondsmen, for the rest of her natural life.

'' Have the boys their further orders, Heydon Palmerston?'' The Widow asked.

''They do indeed, madame. Nothing is lacking for the arrangements. Not the least detail has been left out, or left to chance, I promise you, Dear Lady.'' Moray answered, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was right.

As he expected, Quince Stuart and the rest of the 'sortie' unit were clearing away all signs of the violent confrontation just ended. Harper's unconscious form was tied hand and foot, and was now being neatly draped over his big bay's saddle. The second, wrecked carriage, which proved such a valuable part of their diversion, was being pushed into the lake. Others of the group were busily brushing away hoof prints and wheel tracks or disguising them with new ones.

Adam Traherne and Gordon West were in the main directing these camouflage efforts. They'd argued hotly with Solomon Howell over his wish to keep the 'old battle crows' away from this final sortie, this last fray. Moray grinned tautly now, recalling how he'd involved The Widow in that very discussion, who naturally enough, sided with her late husband's former superiors. In fact, those making up the final sortie's unit were mostly those who balked or argued at one time or another with Howell's idea of Command, making it adverse that he should lead them, today.

And that, in and of itself had been a bitter pill indeed, Moray knew, for his cold-eyed rival in the Company to swallow.

''Ah, that's well. I find myself somewhat fatigued by this … exercise. I'm so glad to find I can rely upon you, now, dear sir. It has been a rather trying time, as you know. I have had to insist the General rest far more often than he would truly prefer it. But these past several days, the events of the past fortnight or so… have him quite, quite exhausted, and of course, deeply, deeply grieved. I've hardly known how to comfort the dear. And Neddy, of course, has been almost inconsolable, to think of what has transpired, to know what now must be done. '' She went on, shaking her head sadly.

''I quite understand, Dear Lady. '' Moray assured her. He quite understood that the ghosts of her late husband and younger brother never really left the madwoman, now. Even from one moment to the next, her attention drifted from the present in which they were long dead and buried, with more and more alacrity to the past in which they lived and breathed. She was clearly beginning yet another conversation with them both, now. ''Please, do excuse me, Missus Pascale, ma'am.'' he ventured, rather boldly he thought, to interject his presence again.

''What? Oh, excuse me, Neddy, dearest, for just the least moment, will you? I needs must keep these fellows apprised of my wishes constantly, or nothing, nothing at all ever will be accomplished! '' Pascale said, smiling at what Moray and his companions saw as the empty air before her. ''Yes, yes, what is it now, Heydon Palmerston?'' she asked the Charleston native, while favoring him with one of her less chilling smiles.

'' Your servant, Ma'am. It fell to me to advise you when the Company was once more prepared to depart this area of operations. We are so prepared now, ma'am. We await only your further orders.'' Moray said and swept a bow straight out of, he imagined, one of Sir Walter Scott's novels.

''Why, thank you, Heydon Palmerston.'' she beamed at him. ''Yes, that is satisfactory. Neddy is already, and the general surely will be greatly pleased with this day's endeavors. Let us be on our way, now, shall we?'' Pascale went on.

''Neddy says you're looking very well and very fine, today, Heydon Palmerston.'' she confided, as the South Carolinian took her arm. ''He greatly appreciates your constantly looking and acting the true Southron gentleman at all times, under all conditions.''

Moray gave The Widow one of his widest smiles, at that. Her favor was more and more apparently the sole requisite for survival in the Company she'd founded. Her tendency to compliment the members of the Company at one remove in this way was nothing new. Every man remaining in Eugenie Isabelle Morrissey Pascale's employ knew she'd been losing her reason apace since the Conflict.

That process only deepened with the death of her younger brother, six years ago. And now it seemed to be hastening again, as if some internal watch piece within the madwoman was running down.

''That's very kind, very kind indeed of young Master Edward Denys to say, ma'am. I'm eternally grateful for his, and for your kind notice. I am always grateful, naturally, ma'am, to make whatever small contribution I may.'' Moray told her.

The Carolinian had been playing a waiting game for more than five years now, as far as this particularly wealthy, exceptionally mad widow was concerned. She surely was never going to turn to Howell, Geronne or Adamson in the unforeseen dearth of her twin brother's counsel. None of those ruffians suited Pascale's fiery temperament or her icy elegance one whit. Nor 7did they seem to comprehend the sheer contempt he knew she held them in. And the elders of the Company were just that, Moray considered, too old for her by half, or too feeble-minded, as in the case of Joshua Whelan. Their day was done, while his own was only dawning.

It was all now Heydon Palmerston Moray's game to win or lose, he considered. And whoever fell by the wayside in his ongoing 'campaign' mattered not one whit. The Conflict, now nearly ten years over, had taken his home, his lands and a great deal of his wealth. He'd lost far too much to the Yankees, to the failures of the Confederacy in general, and to what he still considered the betrayals he'd been threatened by then.

No, he'd lost far more than any of these others, including Pascale, according to his own assessment. He considered he'd finally come to the end game of his own long trials and tribulations, which began in earnest the second time Fort Sumter fell. He intended never to lose at anything, ever again


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER SEVEN Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

The rest of the Company rode out again with Solomon Howell, east from Cheyenne, nearly a week past. Their primary detail now was to prepare the Company's next and, as far as anyone knew, their final quarters. This was a property on the Nebraska/Wyoming border, which Pascale acquired from an old associate of her husband's, now a railroad 'magnate'. The nouveau riche tycoon was delighted to help The Widow, and even gladder to have the deed she signed, exchanging her property outside Cheyenne for his rambling mansion, lands and lodge near a

railroad spur called Pine Bluffs.

The other details for Howell's unit were ones Solomon Howell would never have left in Heydon Moray's hands, no matter what the circumstances. As was only right, to his way of thinking, 'the Colonel' set nearly half his diminished command to protecting the Company's elders. That gave Howell the advantage of having Alec and Jon Morgan with him, both still sharp witted old soldiers, both still crack shots with their favored Remington repeating rifles.

And it gave Solomon Howell what he was sure Moray would see as a disadvantage, support for Howell's Command from Giles Boudin, Joshua Whelan and 'Camp' Hamilton, all greatly respected by their juniors in the band as a whole. The rest of Howell's men were keeping careful watch on four of their five current prisoners. This was to the Colonel's advantage, too, and he knew it, if his command as a whole did not. Lee Henry Morrissey, Devlin Jackson, Seanny and Danny Hoynes were Howell's other charges, just now.

And if they were kept somewhat more closely, in somewhat less comfort than the 'old battle crows', that was no more than anyone expected. What Howell and his men, along with Moray and his band would do with those prisoners, once settled in their new quarters was another matter under serious dispute in the Company. The longer those disputes went on, the more time Howell knew he had to keep private agreement with Morrissey in full, as he'd already kept his silence on the subject of 'Neddy2'.

As far as Pascale, Moray or anyone in the Company who hadn't gone with Solomon Howell to Cheyenne, nearly two weeks ago now, Lee Edward Robert Morrissey resisted arrest, was summarily executed, and was buried behind

a brothel in the territorial capital's red-light district. Neither the Colonel,

nor Morrissey much trusted Heydon Palmerston Moray. His ambition was

a byword among the Company as a whole, along with his vanity, his predilection for cruelty and his patently rapacious greed.

His place in the Company came, to start, from his toadying behavior towards and flattery of Pascale and her late husband. His place as The Widow's Second, now, clearly came from Moray's knack for telling which way Pascale's moods would swing, next. And Heydon Palmerston Moray's place in the future of the Company remained very much to be seen, resting precariously as it now was, on the knife's edge of Eugenie Pascale's support.

''Eugenie's favor, her support for Heydon Palmerston, or for _anyone_ in the Company, shifts almost with her mood, Solomon, old friend.'' Morrissey once more reminded his former Second as they once more rode side by side. The differences from earlier times were that they rode eastward now as no one in the Company had done for nearly three years, and that Morrissey acquiesced to openly wearing handcuffs instead of riding free of any restraints.

''We all know how changeable The Widow can be, Lee Henry. '' Howell nodded. ''The wind on these plains is more constant, and more predictable. I thought I had her favor, myself for all of a fortnight! But frankly, and meanin' no offense to your family, old friend, the Woman's lost all reason! That popinjay, that damn all fool, Moray knows about as much of command as my hat, and maybe not that much!''

''But he thinks he knows how to handle my Twin. And from what little I saw, on my return to Quarters with you, for the moment, that seems, I say that seems to be the case.

What he surely does know is how to raise your ire, Sol. And that is what you needs must look out for… if you are ever going to regain pride of place in the Company, if that's what you want, now.'' Morrissey grinned crookedly at the Colonel, knowing he'd struck a nerve.

''I only want this whole matter over with, Lee Henry.'' Howell insisted.'' I just want it all just as dead and buried as this troublesome young Texan should've been, back in Nebraska, weeks ago! And it would be, if it weren't for the three drunken, damn all fools you're so damn all worried about, these days! And that worrying of yours is what I don't understand one damn bit, old friend!

If this were the CSA, if you and I were still ridin' for General Pascale, those Hoynes brothers and their thick headed, loud mouthed friend, Devlin Jackson would have been summarily shot for as deserters, if they didn't just plain hang as traitors! And you would never have hesitated, that I can imagine for a second, Lee Henry, in signin' their death warrants yourself!''

''But we're not in any Army at all, any longer, old friend, except for the ersatz one you and I and Eugenie invented between us, nearly six years ago, now. And the Conflict itself has been lost, and over ten long years ago, this spring, Solomon, not that I really think you need me to tell you the date.'' Morrissey replied.

''You're talking just the way that damn crazy Texan, that Smith, who we did catch up with in Nebraska, now! Th' War's over! The War's dead and gone, so why would anybody want the damn thing started back up again? Well, we answered him, Lee Henry, 'berto and Zeke, and your young Neddy and I… And you know the answer we gave him, without my saying another word!

_His _War's over, sure! _Your_ Conflict's dead and buried, yes! The Yankees, even the Damn Yankees are going around these days claiming their fighting's done! Well, our fight, our War, and our Conflict isn't over and done with, old friend, not by half!'' The Colonel argued fiercely, so fiercely that his old friend knew he wasn't convinced. Solomon Howell wasn't a man to raise either his fist or his voice unless he felt backed into a corner,one way or another.

''I believe I truly understand that perspective, Sol.'' Lee Henry nodded. '' I felt much the same way, when both my brother and my oldest son were finally known to be dead, and thus past any help I so desperately wished to give each of those boys. Your lovely wife, your Cira, never lived to give you sons, my friend. And in a way, considering how many fathers lost their sons to that Conflict, and how many sons lost their fathers… You might not agree, but I'd say now from my own perspective, count yourself lucky in missing that … particular anguish.''

''I did. And I do.'' Howell answered curtly. '' But Cirri… wanted to give me those children… She wanted that so much it nigh onta killed her, before she ever came down with that last bout of fever!

But I didn't bring you out of that wagon today, Lee Henry, to talk about our ghosts. If you don't want yours laid and left to rest at long last, fine, just leave mine be!''

''Surely. What did you bring me out into the fresh air and daylight to talk about, then, old friend?'' Morrissey asked.

Howell said nothing in answer for a long moment, and, as his former commander watched almost seemed to wordlessly argue with himself. Finally he turned his dark gaze back to Morrissey. ''Back in Chey, I told you the Widow thought you'd gone off with some papers, some letters and journals the Company collected, while we were searchin out this young fool Harper. She thought you'd taken, or given young Neddy some documents that could make trouble for the Company, were the DamnYankee lawmen to get hold of them. Well, she was wrong about that, Lee Henry. And, more to the point, right now, I knew that, when we were talkin', that day in Cheyenne.''

''And yet you had Neddy's belongings and mine searched with enormous exactitude before he rode out of Cheyenne. Now why in the very devil would you…'' Morrissey started to ask, then abruptly opened and shut his mouth again, while studying Howell with new understanding. ''Because Liam Stewart, Dev Jackson, Adam North and the other boys who rode with you that day didn't need to know that you took those same papers, correspondence, and journals yourself!

Solomon, you have always handed over to me or to Eugenie, from the day we started our bloody be damned search for my brother's former cohort, handed every conceivable article of clothing, every possible possession and every single scrap of paper taken from those we found. I've been in the habit of vigilantly destroying any such items you gave me. But my Twin… in her obsession with finding what truly happened to our brother, has kept a great many, especially written records of any kind. And now, you say that you kept just such materials from Eugenie? Why? What were they?''

' I didn't keep them from Herself, Lee Henry.'' Howell contradicted him. '' In fact, I gave them to her a few days before I rode on down to Fort Collins. So, for all I know The Widow read the lot, although as they were written in some sort of cipher, I don' t know how she could. But the fact is, before I rode out of the quarters there outside Cheyenne, I went and got the whole kit and caboodle out of The Widow's desk-safe again.''

Morrissey's wide grey eyes widened still more. He did his best not to chuckle at the image he suddenly had of Solomon Antony Howell committing burglary. '' Forgive me old friend, if I don't seem to be taking this all that seriously. I am quite well aware of the import any such documents might have. And I am even more curious, now, to know why you reclaimed them from my sister's possession. What led you to take such measures, Sol?'' The former cavalry officer asked.

'' Why I did it has a lot to do with why The Widow was making such a commotion about those papers, Lee Henry. And for once I didn't even have to guess her reasons or her reasoning in that, cos I found ol' Moray bending your sister's ear for the hundredth time one morning, while you were … as I thought, on your way back from Denver. And that morning was the exact, same one The Widow told me that you and Neddy'd not only deserted The Company, but absconded with deadly dangerous papers and records regarding 'the great endeavors'. ''

''Our old friend Heydon Palmerston has been attempting to gain Eugenie's trust for himself entirely, for the whole twenty years and more of their acquaintance.'' Morrissey nodded, frowning and listening.

''And from my own observations he's stepped up those efforts all the more in the past six months or so. So, your belief is that Moray convinced my Twin of the significance of these records. But again, I do not understand, what are these papers and why should Moray wish Eugenie to be so especially concerned about them?''

''I don't know yet, old friend. The author of those particular written records did a half decent job of encrypting them. And after he'd done so, he sent them off to what he clearly believed would be the safekeeping of his prospective family. The author was another of those damn all east Texans, one Sergeant Aaron Caulder of Marion County. The person he sent his journals to was that young DamnYankee slut on the damn all immigrant train. And it was from her I obtained the late Sergeant's letters and journals, with no little trouble, I'd add.''

''Caulder… Caulder?'' Morrissey repeated. ''Yes, yes, I recall the lad now. It was our old friend Moray and some of his current faction, who encountered, and dispatched Sergeant Caulder back in Missouri, as I believe. And old Heydon Palmerston Moray was wildly disappointed, when the late Sergeant's personal papers were nowhere to be found amongst his effects. Am I recalling that matter correctly, Sol?''

'' You are.'' Howell nodded. '' And I'll admit, I didn't think much about old Moray not getting his way at the time. But when we came across that sodbuster's train, when we found that Burke wench and her whelp there… Lee Henry, I could care less that the damnYankee slut thought Caulder meant to marry with her, after she went and seduced him and came up with his brat. But first off she had that kid of hers playin with the late Sergeant's letters, where G-d alone knows who else might could've seen them!

An' then I find her sittin' away from that train, sittin' by herself with a lantern an'… pourin' over Caulder's journals… An' then she up and acted as if she wouldn't let loose of them papers, journal books and letters, not even for G-d in His Glory! So, once I had them, all that began rattlin' around in my head, I can tell you, surely! Why'd Moray get himself all exercised when he didn't find Caulder's papers, I started to ask myself.

And why did that DamnYankee tramp, that Burke girl on the train act like that? Lee Henry, I could have let the thing go a sight easier for her, truly,

if she hadn't out of a blue sky acted as though Caulder's damn all letters turned into Holy Writ!''

'' Well be that as it may, Solomon, my main question now is why should Moray try to get Eugenie 'exercised, as you put it, about these same records?'' Lee Henry asked. ''Why indeed, unless there's something in those papers and journals that would effect Heydon Palmerston in particular, and not in any way he'd wish for? So, have you had any luck, old friend, any luck at all deciphering young Caulder's secrets, as yet?''

''That's kind of a damn fool question, now ain't, it, Lee Henry?'' Howell asked. ''You're the best hand amongst The Company at that sort of devilment.

You always have been the best man I ever knew with ciphers, old friend. And that's why I pulled you out of the wagon. You need to have a go at Sgt, Caulder's papers for us.''

''For us, is it, Solomon?'' Morrissey asked, holding back a grin. ''Well, I always have enjoyed solving that kind of puzzle. But if you want something of your old friend, and erstwhile Commander now, you must know I will require something in return. And you must already know what I'm going to ask as my recompense, this time. I don't like the idea of young Devlin, or Seanny, and least of all Danny Hoynes being put through some such ludicrous ordeal.

All young Danny did, after all was to openly say what I'm saying privately now: that Sean Micheal and Devlin Andrew should not be brought up on any charges whatsoever. They've committed nothing more serious than drinking what some folks see as overmuch. They've done nothing to harm my sister, her Company, or it's membership. If you know that of me, old friend, you surely know that's true of

those three lads.''

''I might, and I might not.'' the Colonel frowned. '' And even if I agreed, I certain sure don't have The Widow's ear, right now. Moray wants these factions, these quarrels and splits in the troop, Lee Henry, as far as I can tell. In fact, far as I can tell he'd be glad to get rid of any of the boys who won't go his way. And as right now that's nearly half! But I am the one who put Dev and both the Hoynes under lock and key, mainly because they can't be trusted within five yards of a pub, a saloon or a bottle of whiskey!''

''That's as it may be, Sol. The fact of the matter is you took it very personally when our late friend, young Tyler, had to correct your detail on the question of the young Texan you encountered and wrongly identified as Harper, back in Nebraska. And you decided Devlin and Sean must be to blame for that erroneous information. But with time to consider … you've surely thought better of your accusations.

You've surely come to the same conclusion I have… The Federal coppers we've all become more and more anxious about of late are the ones who found out, nabbed and jailed our informants in Lincoln and at Fort Kearney…So, I'm sure you'll work with me for Devlin's and the Hoynes' release and reinstatement within the Company, if only because that would add three remarkably grateful young lads to your side of the present equation. ''

'' Lee Henry, I swear, to listen to you, I'd almost think you were taking back Command of the Company, yourself, now. Are you? Is that why you came back from with me from Chey? Is that why you rode back into the Lioness' Den, two weeks ago? Because, frankly, I can't find a single objection I can make to any plan along just those lines, old friend, a plan smart and swift and strong enough to upset a certain Charleston shyster's high-flyin' apple-cart! '' Howell asked, and grinned ferociously.

''Old friend, I've enjoyed upsetting apple-carts that were flying too high, too fast ever since I can remember.'' Morrissey grinned back, just as fiercely. ''But my question to you is, could such a 'grand endeavor' as that cause yet more factions to secede from one another within the Company itself, or would it bring about reunification?''

''Well, if you were to go to the boys with a plan using those terms in particular, I'm of the opinion you will achieve the former, rather than the latter.'' Howell groaned. '' We're still, a lot of us, angry old fire-eaters, Lee Henry, and we're still, all of us, staunchly 'secesh'! What is it that you intend doing? ''

''I intend, as I have since we left Cheyenne, to acquiesce in all Eugenie requires of me now. I intend to give every appearance and every sign of mourning the violent death of my last remaining child. And I intend to maintain my eyes and ears and good common sense in fine working order, Solomon, old friend, waiting , as always for the right moment to act, and the clear understanding of what action may be needed.

I intend to exercise the better part of valor, Sol, unless and until it becomes apparent that sterner, harsher measures are called for now. And despite the ill-will she apparently bears me lately, I intend that no significant harm befalls my Twin sister. Clearly, Eugenie has borne more than her spirit and her heart could withstand. And I am, perhaps, uniquely qualified to know just how strong they once were.

My concern for her now is not so much what my sister has already done and ordered done, none of those things, not even today's final sortie can be taken back, can be undone now by any of us, for any of us. No, my concern is that Eugenie cannot come back from the darkness she's wandered in for so long now, at the very least, since Napier died. And my hope, in an odd way is that my Twin is not as lost, not as broken, and not as vulnerable as she seems, that she may return to herself and to us, when all this horror reaches an end point of some kind.

I don't wish Eugenie destroyed, Solomon, even though she may believe I do. And I am entirely at fault, if in fact she so believes. I have just as hot and harsh a temper as she. I have done and said things regarding my Twin I wish had not done. I've ranted and roared with the pure frustration at all the world, just as she has. And I remain certain sure that somewhere within the patently madwoman we've seen these last six years and more, some elements of the girl and the woman I knew all my life survives and may make her known, once more.

She's' always been indomitable, old friend, the problem of late, has been what she's lent that courage, that strength and that pure force of will to accomplishing. Some times I truly have not been sure she knew what she was doing at all, and at other times I was just as afraid that she did, that she does. I would very much like to keep her from wholly, entirely self-destructing.''

''Lee Henry, you seem to have forgotten, you are the Widow's prisoner, now!'' Howell exclaimed. ''And she's shown every sign of intending the Company should vote your death, whenever this so called tribunal is convened. I had orders from Herself to seek out and destroy both you and Neddy!

If you feel so warmly towards the general's widow, that's fine, that's brotherly devotion, surely. But she shows not the least sign of reciprocating, old friend! She hardly mentions your name, at least not in my hearing and that may, in fact, be to your advantage. But otherwise, she's far too busy, lately simpering back and forth with Moray, drinking in his damn flattery like wine, or chattering with 'Neddy' and 'the General'.

And now from what I've noted, she's caught up in getting ready to aim all that strength of will, all that fire and all that fixed determination directly against this Harper, this Texan she's had us chasing down all this while! What she actually means to do with the fellow, no one but the Widow knows. I daresay it won't be much of a lark, for him. I daresay one less turncoat from Texas is fine by me! I should have finished off the one in Nebraska, when I had him down! In any case, Lee Henry, I don't think the Widow shares your sibling affection any longer.''

''Well that's as may be, that remains to be seen. The other strongest character trait my twin sister shares with me is a certain reluctance to see a work, a campaign or an endeavor reach it's end. She'll delay the endgame here as long as she possibly can, my friend. And in doing so, she may just give us the chance to turn things around.'' Lee Henry mused.

''So, my question to you, Sol, is simply this: If that chance arises, if a way to end this nightmare less bloodily than we began it, less violently than we've carried it through, will you take that chance with me? Or will you in fact, take Heydon Palmerston's lead, as my Twin now surely seems to do?''

''If my choice is to jump your way or Moray's , Lee Henry, and the chance presents itself where we can take him down by making that jump, then look around, I'll be right beside or right behind you, old friend! I'd rather jump the Rio Grande valley, or that canyon up Colorado way, then let damn all Heydon Palmerston Moray lead me anywhere!'' Howell laughed.

''Now that's what I hoped you'd say!'' Morrissey chuckled. ''But as I am also your prisoner now, and supposedly a broken, defeated, desolately bereft father as well, perhaps we should cease all this smiling, laughing and chattering. And, I want young Devlin, as well as Seanny and Danny Hoynes given their horses, the minimum of supplies needed to reach oh, let's say either Denver or the Dakotas, and their young lives back, in the bargain. In short, I want those three young fools, who never did you, or the Company an instant's harm, to escape whatever fate Moray has planned for them, and as soon as humanly possible.''

Solomon Howell knew his former Commander very well indeed, as he should, Howell considered, after serving with Morrissey all these years. What most surprised the Colonel these days however was the ways in which Lee Henry could still surprise him. And he'd just done it again. '' Have you entirely lost your mind, Lee Henry?'' the Colonel demanded, glaring at Morrissey. '' Have you gone as mad as The Widow on me?''

''Possibly I have, Solomon Anthony. However that may be, you have my terms in this matter. Do you accept them or not, my friend?'' Lee Henry asked, as calmly as if they were at dinner and he was asking for the salt cellar.

''How in the heavens or on earth can I, my friend?'' Howell asked, lowering his voice to an angry rasp to keep their discussion private. '' Just how can I do that? Those three young wastrels, those three young drunkards have caused The Company as a whole more trouble than they're worth, considered separately or together, by weight or by wits! They get to drinking and they get to flapping their damn jaws, and then we're all set for the gallows any minute! Those three young scoundrels…''

'' Those three young scoundrels can't hold their liquor, and they've proven that more than once. That's true, surely. But, my friend, if they'd done The Company the kind of harm you've worked yourself up to believing, don't you truly believe the Federal, state, territorial or local lawmen would have come down upon us all like avenging Unionist angels, before we ever left Nebraska?'' Morrissey demanded.

''Unionist angels?'' Solomon repeated, taking up the most ridiculous part of his former Commander's argument. ''What makes you think the Eternal allows such creatures to exist, Lee Henry, after what the damn all Unionists did to our homes, our lives and our people?''

''Be that as it may, Solomon, you've yet to answer my question. I will do my utmost, surely to decipher Sgt. Caulder's written legacy for … us. I am as interested, if not eager to know it's contents as you are, I assure you. But I will have those three boys spared, set free, and sent packing, before I so much as glance at the paper he wrote on. '' Morrissey stated, jutting his jaw just as far as his friend's, to emphasize his own determination.

'' Set free? Have you become a damn all abolitionist, at this late stage, then, Lee Henry?'' Howell snarled, his dark eyes flashing, and looked as if he would deny his former superior officer, this time. ''Have you gone soft, as you grow older, old friend? I'm not out here, after all this time to takeit easy on fools and cowards, much less both, much less damn fool drunken cowards who could put my neck in a Yankee noose as easily as falling off a log! And maybe you're just tired out, old friend. But I think maybe there's something you don't understand any longer:

We're none of us out here to make things easy for damn fools, or cowards or traitors to the Cause all of us above a certain age fought and bled and saw our lives destroyed for! We're none of us out here, Lee Henry, except to set things to rights again, where we've been given to understand they went damn all wrong! Due respect, Lee Henry, but none of the Company, excepting maybe the wildest of the youngsters here, would have ridden half a mile, if we hadn't entirely believed those 8th Texans Neddy1 rode with went and turned their coats from Rebel grey to damn all Union blue!'' Howell hissed

''Was that your reason for joining the Company, old friend?'' Morrissey probed. '' Do you still insist you came along, you joined our sorties, you helped lead these men and boys and our old battle crows to hunt down those young Texans and their kin, because you believed them traitors?''

'' I do! They were surely traitors or fools, Lee Henry! Or what is worse, likely they were both! How many fools did we all suffer not very gladly all through the Conflict, old friend? And how many times, because of their damn tendencies towards debacles and disasters did we all say we should have done for the damn fools who took us down all the wrongest roads they could find?

So, even knowing you came to the Company, and led it for the sake of your three lost boys, you must have had some understanding, Lee Henry, of how good it felt to the most of the boys, and to me, to finally, actually do something about a nest of more than likely turncoats? We had something to strike back at, again! We had a fight to fight that we could surely win, this time! We could stop nursin' old wounds, and grievances that could never be settled in the living world, and take up a Cause… our Cause, again!''

''Solomon, Solomon, this is me you're speaking with now, your friend from our prep school days , and in something as close to privacy as we're likely to know, from this point onwards.

And as aware as I am of how profoundly I am in your debt, as regards events in Cheyenne a fortnight past, I am also aware of the obligation our long friendship imposes upon me still. And I have always considered the chief of those obligations, between one friend and another, to be as much truth as the traffic would reasonably bear, if not complete and utter unflinching honesty.

In other words, we've known each other far too long to start exchanging falsehoods now. I haven't and I won't lie to you, now, Sol. Please do me the honor of returning that favor, old friend. You and I and the largest part of the Company, came to these damn all 'grand endeavors' for the same, identical purpose, Solomon, the pursuit of our own vengeance for the losses each of us suffered during and after the Conflict.

I wanted blood for the blood of my three lost sons, and I've waded in blood to my kneecaps by this time. Eugenie wanted, she still wants recompense because neither Napier nor 'her' Neddy ever came home again. And you, my old friend, never mention your lost girl's, your lovely Cirri's name any more. But I know you are haunted, even now, by the way she died before you could get home to her once the Conflict ended. ''

'Lee Henry, I do not speak of Cirr… of my late wife, Cira, any longer because there is not any point in calling up ghosts, who should have been laid ten years ago and more! And I'll thank you to leave off speaking of her, as well, from this time on, old friend!'' Howell called out bitterly, his dark eyes glistening with rage and regret that visibly gnawed him.

''She was in Baton Rouge while my post was in Richmond with the General, that last winter and spring of the Conflict. There was nothing to be done, no means by which I could go to her, or even get home again in less than a fortnight, with not one but two damnYankee armies, and the railroads utterly destroyed between us! ''

''And all the Company have much the same terrible stories, much the same nightmarish memories, that were not nightmares at all, but horrid truths.

We lost our homes, our friends, our kin, our whole, entire way of life.'' Morrissey nodded. ''And with all that said, old friend, you've managed to maneuver quite a distance away from the question I posed you and the terms I offered as regards my help with the late Sergeant Caulder's encrypted papers.

So, I reiterate. Will you or will you not spare the lives of three young Southrons whose worst failing to date has been their weakness regarding spirituous libations? In other words, Solomon, old friend, do you or do you not wish to learn why Moray is so concerned with these, out of all the papers, letters and documents we've collected during our damned endeavors?''

Howell turned to study his old friend once more and Morrissey could tell the Colonel's temper had cooled somewhat, despite his tone. Howell's dark eyes showed the only emotion Lee Henry had seen in them since the Conflict, that wasn't rage.

The second mention of his beautiful, late wife had turned the trick, it seemed, as those often cold eyes now showed a depth of mourning that would never entirely be banished.

''I'll let the damn all fools loose, Lee Henry.'' Howell finally, unhappily agreed. ''But if I find they've taken their sorry tales to any DamnYankee lawman whatsoever, I will do for each of them with my own bare hands, I swear it! So, you might want to share that warning with them, old friend.''

''I will be more than happy to impart your words of wisdom to them, Sol. Now, where are these, hopefully damning to our old friend from Charleston, papers?'' Morrissey asked, grinning widely.

_I've saved four young lives, instead of watching them be snuffed out in needless pain and blood and terror,_ the former Cavalry brigadier considered. _And perhaps that will be considered in the Balance, when my time comes to face the Eternal. I doubt young Harper can be likewise spared. But then I had little expectation, even with the help of my new 'armament' that I could rescue Neddy. Perhaps there's hope after all for my lost brother's young companion. Just perhaps. At any rate something must be done and the sooner the better, to quell Moray's' burgeoning ambitions … and his penchant for rampant destruction. _

''I put the whole lot where neither Moray nor any of his … current crop of friends would be likely to go looking for them, Lee Henry.'' Howell was saying. '' In fact, they're in the saddlebags on the cayuse you're riding, now. Morrissey grinned again.

''Sol, old friend, you've always had a fine eye for camouflage! Well, when we're camped for the evening, I'll get straight to work, to break the late Sergeant's cipher. And you'll probably want to let Dev Jackson and his two friends stretch their legs around that same time, won't you?''

''Are you taking back Command, Lee, old friend?'' Howell asked, almost smiling. ''Because it surely sounded as though you were commencing to issue me my orders, just then.''

''Command of this bloodstained band is the last thing I wish to take back into my hands, I assure you. '' Morrissey said, shaking his head. ''If it should be required of me at some future point, by circumstances beyond my control, I would do so, only with the utmost reluctance, I can also promise. To be precise, in order to preserve your life, or Eugenie's, or some of our 'old crows', I would consider doing that, Sol. Otherwise, I am quite content with the role of Company cryptographer.''

''Well that's good to know, Lee Henry. I don't hear you saying you'd take back Command to save your own weary old hide, though. Now, why is that? Have you, even with Neddy Two safely away from The Widow, somehow acquired a death wish?'' Howell demanded.

'' Acquired?'' Morrissey echoed. ''No, no, my friend. I've had one firmly attached to my weary old hide for some time, now. I can't even imagine surviving this nightmare any longer. I can't think that I'd particularly wish to, either. I… I've seen and done and ordered done too much, at this point. I'm not even as afraid of Perdition as I was taught to be, now. No, it seems to me that will seem nothing more than an extension of the country I've inhabited at least these past six years.

Six years ago, you'll recall we not only got word of my brother's death down in the Quarter, but the certain word of my Andrew's death, as well. I began to wish for death in that same instant, Sol, just as I believe you did, when word came about your Cira. But, with this difference, I was raised to firmly believe a father should

not survive his sons.''

''A great many fathers had no other choice in that matter, all during the Conflict.'' Howell noted.

'' And that in itself does nothing to persuade you of the pure wrongness of it?'' Lee Henry demanded, his own old bitterness on the rise again. '' Old men by the tens, by the hundreds of thousands sent their sons to fight, to bleed and to die in a Cause their great grandfathers should have damn all settled! And as one of those self bereaved old men, I can tell you, Solomon, my friend, that I'm not much persuaded, nowadays that our Glorious Cause and our 'fair Confederacy' should not have been destroyed, and destroyed very much as it was!

I'm not as strongly persuaded, these days, that anything would have kept the old South alive much longer. Perhaps our Glorious Cause was lost from the first, we have no way of telling that, now. But this I can tell you, old friend. I feel the weight of those deaths, and the noose around my neck for each of the young lives we've taken as a Company, in exacting our vengeance, in seeking our reparations, in trying to lay our own tragic ghosts.

How many of my brother's former cohort has the Company 'taken off the roll' by this time, Solomon? Hadn't the total of murders we've done reached thirty four by the time we left Nebraska? And that's only counting those cases where we can have no doubt our 'person of interest' actually did expire. Hadn't we reached something on the order of eight seven other men and women we attacked, we drugged and we abducted on the pretext, the pretext, I say, of seeking after one of my late brother's companions in arms from the 8th Texas Cavalry' Company H?''

''Harper, if The Widow decides he merits execution at some point in the not too distant future will be the thirty-sixth we've so dealt with, Lee Henry. You have as good a head for figures as I, so you know that, just as well as you know we will have contacted, and when circumstances warranted it, temporarily detained and questioned eight nine … others.

Some of that latter group may have suffered worse consequences than others, some may have sickened or died after we released them.

But I have no care for that, as I did not join the Company, nor did I give my oath here to take responsibility for the future health and well being of a lot of Yankee lovin', sneakin', treacherous, disloyal former Rebels! And we found every evidence of that bein' the case in …nearly all these cases, Lee Henry! They worked with, married with, worked for, bred with, schooled and even soldiered with DamnYankees, all the way from Louisville west to Denver and from N'Olins north to here! There was no pretext that I'm aware of! They knowingly consorted with the enemy, old friend, and doin' that still comes with a real high price tagged to it, at least in my book!''

''Then I must be quite amazingly fortunate, Solomon, and I must show myself even more profoundly grateful that you did not follow that same pattern, those same beliefs as regards matters in Cheyenne… '' Lee Henry acknowledged, suppressing a shudder as the Colonel coldly dismissed any mention of a three year old little boy named Willy, who had the ill luck to be with his mother, Melissa Burke when that hapless young woman encountered Solomon Howell.

''You were told I'd deserted the Company, and taken my son with me. You were told in no uncertain terms I planned subversion. You know very well you could have found a way to overpower me, there, and then to murder Lee Edward and myself outright. And now, bringing only me, me back alone to Eugenie, has cost you that pride of place you always cherished whilst Napier was alive. I can't help wondering what truly effected your decision, old friend. Will you humor my curiosity on the subject?''

'' I told you that right off. I didn't believe The Widow's story. And I was right to disbelieve her. I found nothing amongst your other belongings, remotely dangerous to the Company, excepting of course that fancy new shotgun of yours. I've always known you to be a man of your word, at all times, under all conditions, and you gave me your word you'd not harm any members of my detail that day, in exchange for no harm coming to Neddy2 at least, not by my command.'' Howell almost grinned.

''Now, don't be insulted too deep, but there was one more reason to let the boy slip away. He's about a dangerous as a new whelped jackrabbit, Lee Henry, and just sensible enough to know that about himself. If he don't try comin' back after his Daddy now, if Neddy keeps his word, that is, I suspect he may grow up to be as respectable a man as you.''

'' Or more so, I devoutly hope.'' Morrissey chuckled dryly, then grew somber. ''But not half as devoutly as I hope he will keep his sworn word to me. I truly would question the merit of my living long enough to face the Company's or anyone else's justice at this point, Solomon Antony, if Neddy were in harm's way once more.

Our Heydon Palmerston will certain have a field day 'prosecuting' me before the Company's 'Tribunal', if he allows the proceedings to reach that point.

And I don't mind that, truly. It may even prove amusing for a time. And since we both know he'll have his lookouts scouting your division, perhaps it would be better for now if, in fact we seemed to quarrel, again, ourselves, as we ride back to the others . It wouldn't do for your faction, or Heydon Palmerston's lookouts amongst them to get the wrong idea just yet, much less the right one!''

'' I have not a single one of damn all Moray's damn all spies among my unit!'' Howell protested, raising his voice as he had not done in the past quarter hour. '' And I greatly resent your implying the opposite could be true, old man!''

'' The man is a twisted, mean spirited dastard, Solomon, my lad!'' Morrissey answered in kind. ''And he's surely, at the very least tried to make headway amongst your boys! I wouldn't put it past our dear Heydon Palmerston to attempt anything from bribery to extortion in order to take the more malleable lads over to his side of the question! And what source he may

have to make such threats, I do not know, unless he believes he can lay the whole, entire culpability for the Company's grand endeavors on the shoulders of the most gullible lads in our troop!

And what resources Moray has from which to offer bribes I'm sure I have no idea, unless he is presently in possession of either my family fortune or Jeff Davis' Lost Cache of Confederate Gold! But what I do know, for I see it with my own eyes, old friend, is that you go on, you ride eastwards to your new Company Quarters, as if nothing Heydon Palmerston has done and surely will go on doing matters in the least to you!''

'' That's enough, Lee Henry! Zeke! Ezekiel!''' Howell called out to his Second, just barely winking at his former Commander as he did so.

'' Take this old fool back to the buckboard and make sure he stays put and make certain he's damned uncomfortable there. I've had enough of his gripes, his insults and his half crazed ideas as well! And you, Lee Henry, you need to calm down, old man, and get a grip on what's going on and what's going to happen once we're in Quarters again. You're running out of friends among the Company these days, faster than you can say Jack Robinson. Was I you I'd watch my mouth, watch my step and watch my back from here on out!''

''But as we've noted so many times before, Solomon, lad, you're not me. And you're not the man I used to know, either. You're nothing, in fact like the stalwart, sharp witted officer, the brilliant cavalryman, or the friend I used to have. His oaths were not to my Twin or Heydon Palmerston Moray but to this Company and before that to the Confederacy and to Phillips Napier Pascale!'' Morrissey added, scowling at his former Second, and then at Zeke Adamson as that 'worthy' joined them.

''Figure you'd best shut it now, Lee Henry.'' Adamson offered sagely. ' Sol here ain't got much patience left for fellas raising this kinda ruckus, lately. Reckon Solomon might just have it figured that bringin' you back quick instead of dead, an' not bringin' young Neddy at all, did him some real hurt with The Widow, maybe even lost him Command. Was I you, I wouldn't set out to provoke Th' Colonel any further, not just now.''

''I'll… take that under careful advisement, Ezekiel.'' Lee Henry nodded. ''For now, perhaps we'd both take Solomon at his word. I believe you're to make me as uncomfortable as possible for the remainder of our trek. I'll hope for another, better time to discuss the present situation with you, Sol. For now, I'll merely bid you a good afternoon, Colonel, sir.'' Morrissey saluted sharply and turned to ride back to the wagon that served as the unit's gaol at present.

''You can hope for whatever you like, Lee Henry. That doesn't mean you'll get your wishes. I'll discuss nothing more with a man who impugns my word and insults my troops!'' Howell insisted, growling. ''Take him back, Ezekiel and keep him close-guarded from here on out!''

''Yes, sir, Colonel Howell, sir!'' Adamson replied, saluting in his usual mocking style, before leading Morrissey back to the group. These two old friends were plainly up to something, the Georgian considered. And when Sol or Lee Henry or both decided to let him in, they would.

Adamson hoped for his own part that whatever it was, it meant taking a certain foppish, lightning tempered Charleston attorney down at least a peg or two, if not all the way down, and sometime soon! He didn't know how much longer, or how much deeper the factions in the Company could grow without tearing it to pieces outright. He plumb didn't know.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER EIGHT '' Widow's Retreat'' outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

He didn't know a thing, except that everything hurt. Everything in, on

and around him, hurt like blue blazes. Most of all, three distinct parts of him hurt worse than he'd ever imagined was possible. His head rang with pain, so sharply he could almost hear it, and the left side and back of his head seemed to be where that pain spread out from across and through his skull. But he had no notion how, when or where that happened to him.

His left leg, high up between his knee and his waist, was stiffly braced by what felt like polished wood or metal splints, and ached fiercely when he moved it the least bit. His whole right shoulder and arm burned and ached when he even tried moving, shifting or shrugging.

And when he tried to figure why that was, moving charily, left handed, he found his arm in a sling, and tightly bound against his chest now. He couldn't recall either the splinting or the sling, much less the binding being put in place, but there they were. And moving with or against them only made the hurting worse. It didn't seem to him he'd ever hurt this much before. But then, he wasn't all that sure he knew when 'before' he hurt this way might be. It seemed endless, this hurting. It surely didn't have a beginning he could recall. And up to now, so far as he could rightly tell,

it didn't have any endpoint. And that would have worried him, it surely would, if he'd been able to do anything right now but hurt from tip to toe. That would have worried him, he just barely managed to consider, the idea of hurting that started up before he could recall and never stopped. It sounded way too much like a real fine description of Perdition. Had he gone and got himself damned, he wondered, or had that truly always been the case, with no way past what was written down from the Foundation? And where or when or from who had he ever heard any such gigantic notion as that?

The answer to that was like all the other 'answers' he seemed to come up with, just now. He had no idea. In fact, he had no answers whatsoever. All he had was a pounding, pulsing hurt that only grew worse, the more he tried to figure how it got there, much less how he got… wherever he and all this hurting were, just now. He couldn't think a bit, with the way his head throbbed. His guts and his ribs protested almost as painfully as his head whenever he tried to use the muscles around them. So he couldn't sit up much, either.

But it seemed he could squint and blink his eyes without anything hurting awfully much, without anything hurting worse, at least. And somehow it seemed, it had been a while since he could manage that. He wasn't sure if he was right about that, though. It seemed it had been a while since he was sure of anything much at all. So, not sure at all what he'd see, he blinked and squinted, squinted and blinked and just barely turned his head. A dull pounding started up when he made that smallish turn, though. And somehow or other he knew the worse pain in the backand side of his head would be following along, and soon.

But there was something good about squinting and blinking, after all, because after a moment, he saw a woman's strong, lovely face, smiling down at him, high browed and fine looking. In the next moment, he got another 'reward' for the effort of opening his eyes to the size of chinks in a cabin wall. He heard a voice that seemed to be the first voice he'd heard in a real long time, a woman's voice that was genteel and musical, throaty and commanding all at once. And that voice just might belong to the face that seemed to float above him. But mainly, he considered it was good to know he could hear, again.

He wasn't too awfully clear on when he'd last heard anything besides the painful ringing in his head. But it wasn't all that good. Without a real, strong effort he couldn't fully understand what the voice was saying to him. And effort was thinking. And the driving, suffocating, almost devouring pain in his head didn't much cotton to him thinking.

He hadn't tried talking yet, maybe he could get the voice to go back over whatever it said, so he'd have a second chance to take hold of it. He didn't seem to be able to take or keep hold of anything much lately, though. He had the strongest feeling he was trying for and losing a handhold here, a foothold there, most of the time now, while trying to make back up a mountain he hadn't known was on his trail.

Was somebody around here, wherever here might be, doing what it seemed he'd always heard people complaining about… when he wasn't sure, making mountains out of molehills? Or was he the one who only saw molehills now, when in fact, right there in front of him, was a genuine mountain range? He wasn't sure. And becoming sure right now meant more thinking. And thinking was … just not a good thing, not just now. So, he'd go back to trying talking.

'' M …m' … sorry, ma'am.'' he did finally managed to rasp, after a long moment's struggle. His throat was dry as sand and his mouth felt lined with cotton. '' 'M sorry. But what'd …y' say?''

''I said, my splendid knight-errant, my bona fide hero, my young champion is finally coming awake, again.'' the voice, that surely did seem to come from the face above him replied. ''But you're still not feeling too awfully well, I'd have to guess.''

'' N-nope.'' he answered. ''Th-thirsty… r-real thirsty, though, ma'… ma'am.''

''Yes, that's to be expected. '' The face nodded, and strangely, even her movement made him dizzy.

'' But I have something to help you with that, just here. And it should, it will help with your pain as well. You still look as though you're in some significant pain. Aren't you?'' She asked.

''S-some…'' he agreed, wary of nodding.

''And that's not in the least surprising. You took some serious injury, a number of severe blows, in fact, whilst taking on a whole band of well…I suppose it could be right to describe them as brigands. And you did all that for my sake. So, I'm genuinely, genuinely grateful to you, sir. I'm very obliged to you, young Sir Knight.

You did a truly, truly heroic deed that day, and earned, for the most part, several broken bones for doing so! I suppose you've noted that, by now, and the pain in your poor, battered head. You did all you could to save me from something …well, something simply ghastly happening.

That's why I said you were a hero, my hero.'' the woman said, smiling brightly. Her smile was so bright, in fact, it almost hurt his eyes.

''But here I am nattering away while you're in such awful, awful pain. Now, this is what will best help with that, so drink it all down.'' She said and held a cool, china cup to his mouth, putting one hand behind his aching head.

The pain was driving towards him again, growing into a familiar roar. And even with her help, his neck and shoulders protested at shifting enough to let him sip at the cup's contents. He blinked some more when the liquor from the cup slid down his gullet, warm and harsh, and strong as an Army mule's kick. The woman laughed musically now, as she helped him lay back down

''You weren't expecting spirits, were you? But it's what I was advised to give you, or rather to give you the medicine for your terrible pain mixed in. Otherwise, I was advised you might refuse to take it. And you must, now, you truly, truly must. Otherwise, how are you to be rid of that horrid, horrid pain?''

''Dunno.'' he managed to say, his tongue seeming to blur everything he said. The warmth of the drink was slowly running through him, like an icebound stream beginning to thaw, and with that warmth, his driving, punishing pain was starting to fade'' Th-thanks.''

''No, no, as I said before, its I who simply must be thanking you. I don't know if anyone nowadays in these strangely changed times still considers there's truly anything such as a fate worse than death…

But I know you kept me from grievous harm. And I intend that you shall be fully rewarded. Why, whatever's wrong? What's troubling you?''

'' I … I don't…'' he said, fighting the urge to shake his head that could only make things worse. '' Don't… know… what … I d-did…don' remem…''

'' Truly?'' the woman asked, her eyes wide and bright and seeming to be an almost silvery blue-grey. ''Well, that's nothing for you to worry over, now. I was advised you might not immediately recall what occurred. That's nothing at all for you to worry over. I'm quite determined to take care of you, now. And that's really only fair, to my way of thinking. Yes, that's the very least I could do.

I owe you a tremendous, tremendous debt. And I will not rest until it's been fully, fully repaid, I solemnly assure you. But you, my young hero, your sole part in all this is to rest. And in that you simply must acquiesce. Otherwise, how are you to regain your strength? You helped me in a moment of great peril. It's only right I help you, young sir. And so I shall. But you must follow my dictates, as I have them from ar older, and wiser heads than ours. You must allow me to do all I may. That's nothing more than right in a case like this, nothing more than right.

Now, I was advised your medicine might produce some vertigo, some lightheadedness, and I think it may be doing so, now.''

'' 'M kinda… dizzy… '' He agreed, wondering if somewhere on the other side of the ringing in his head he might know what the woman was talking about. Maybe so. Maybe sometime he'd even get back up the mountain that suddenly confronted him again. But just now he wasn't entirely sure why he'd been climbing it, to begin with. Had there been something he wanted or needed atop that mountain or on its other side? Had it been important? Maybe so.

Answers only came with thinking, though. And thinking was not anything his dizziness now, or his pain before, allowed for. Anyhow, who in their right mind wanted that kind of pain? Not him, not when the dizziness came followed on the double-quick march by warmth and ease all softly wrapped in cotton batting. He was too weary now to do anything but lay back within that softness, that ease, and listen as the woman's voice flowed on and on, somewhere that seemed further and further above his head, farther and farther away by the minute.

''You rest now. Just rest. I'll stay near. I promise you that. '' The woman said, serenely calm and compelling all at once. '' I was advised you'd not wish to waken and find yourself alone. And of course, when one's ill it's such a comfort to be sure of a kind companion, staying near at hand. I doubt you've much experience with being ill. You did seem quite vigorous, in coming to my … well, yes, I'd have to say to my rescue. Yes, I'd surely have described you as a young knight-errant that day, right out of our dear Sir Walter Scott's _Ivanhoe._ I do so love that fine old story! Do you know it? I'm sure you do!

Ivanhoe comes back from the Crusades… deeply mourning all his comrades who would never return home to England with him. Does that strike a chord with you? Perhaps it doesn't just at the moment. Ivanhoe's a valiant knight, a Crusader, you see. And he returns to find his homeland terribly, terribly, tragically changed, forever. Yes, I think we all know how that feels… surely. We all know that ravening emptiness, that horrid shock. The world we knew … has died!

No! No, the world we knew was destroyed, deliberately, brutally destroyed in fire and in blood and in anguish! Ah well, that was what we all knew would happen, someday, when our enemies grew so numerous and so dreadfully strong… They hated our gentler, lovelier, far more genteel world, just as Ivanhoe's Norman enemies hated the Saxon kingdom they overran!

And they … the Normans who invaded and destroyed our world, they will be made to see and to know, to feel and to pay the price for what they trampled like an unwanted, untended kitchen garden! The fools! The damnYankee fools don't even know they rode roughshod over, they trampled Eden!''

Her manner changed again, now she was fervent, now she was almost angry and that worried him, that wasn't the way a fine, handsome, well-spoken lady should be made to feel, ever. He didn't know her. He wasn't sure he knew much of anything, not right now. All he was sure of was this lady's genteel manner, her warmth and her kindness. He didn't want anything disturbing the serenity in her silvery grey-blue eyes, or the calm and strength in her flowing voice. It wasn't right for anything to bother or worry her.

So, he'd sit up, he'd get up and stand between her and any trouble that tried to come her way… He needed to… stand up for her… He would. He struggled and pushed at the bedclothes all over and around him and nearly got to where he could lean on his elbow, and failed miserably, falling back again, with the pain in his head, his back, his neck and arms coming back in force, again.

'' Oh, my dear, you know you really mustn't attempt that, not yet!'' the woman called out, from what seemed miles away. Now she came hurrying back. Now she was close again, gently, firmly resettling him back onto what seemed a heap of pillows, atop a scrunchy-soft feather mattress.

He breathed in vast relief at her 'return', and with that came a wave of jasmine scent, sweet and rich and unmistakably hers, he thought he might just barely remember. It suited her just perfect, at least, he thought, as another breath of it reached him. He'd known someone who liked jasmine… He'd known someone who liked that scent, and who greatly cared for him, who always soothed, always eased him, much as this real kind lady did. But, whoever that was, he couldn't say. Right now they were just another something on the other side of the pain, the ringing in

his head and that range of molehill- mountains.

'' M' sorry.'' he muttered. '' You … looked… unhappy.'' the weary, confused man mumbled. '' … Wanted … just wanted to … ''

'' To come to my rescue, yet again?'' She smiled and shook her head. ''And you see, that shows I was right in my assessment. You are a fine young man, and a true Southron… in heart and spirit. And of course, those things are what matter… Now, please do try to understand. I deeply regret the evident necessity of telling you the facts of your case, while you're still not altogether recuperated. But… I'm afraid you have been gravely ill, you see, you've had quite a serious fever. And that would account, I'm advised, to a large extent for your present weakness and confusion.''

'' 'M sorry, ma'am… … Don' remember… Don't seem … t' recall much of … anything.'' '' The just awakened man admitted, feeling an aching regret at disappointing her. Then he started.

''Why, whatever's wrong, my boy?'' the woman asked, leaning over him with a wide-eyed, uneasy frown.

'' Please, do tell me! If I haven't given you the proper amount of the medicine, I'm advised it can't do it's restorative, healing work… ''

'' N-n-no.'' he shook his head, panic pushing away the plain, unvarnished fact of the way that made his head ache, and ring and spin. '' N-no! … No, don't rem…I can't remember… anything! I don't know…''

''Oh, please, please don't be afraid of that, my boy!'' She insisted, hovering over him, again.'' I was just trying to explain to you, that's bound to be a merely temporary, passing condition for you. At least that's what I've been advised. You must regain your health and strength, and then your memory will surely follow along in the natural course of things.''

He wanted to believe her entirely. In fact, he did. And he'd be real glad

to let 'the natural course of things' take it's time, if this wonderful lady stayed beside him. He'd been tangled in his pain like a wobbly leg foal in a clothesline before she returned this time. She had been with him, before. He couldn't remember when that was, or where, but he was sure he'd heard her musical voice, and seen her amazingly wide, beautiful silvered-grey eyes before now.

And then she'd been gone when the pain roused him again. That was what frightened him now. How long would she stay? How long would she be gone for, next time? And how could he even ask her not to go? It wasn't right. She was clearly much too fine a lady to be bothered with a fella who couldn't' even figure who he was! And he needed her to be bothered with him… He couldn't begin to fight the pain, not alone.

''Please, will y' stay? Will y' st- stay … n-n-now?'' the man on the bed asked, feeling like a little boy asking his momma to stay and chase bad dreams away. '' I … mi' mebbee… remember… somethin' more… I … y' were … y' were here, b'fore… b'fore now, I … I think y' were. So, c-can y' stay… n-now?''

''Well, of course I will.'' She assured him. '' And you're quite right, I was right here the last time you were awake, and the time before that, and before that, as well. I deeply regret that I was called away… and did not have any idea of the time involved. There were matters I left in the hands of my … aides and so forth, on which, as it turned out, my attention was required, after all. I've made it my fervent mission to see you recover, my lad, and so I shall! Indeed, there have already been numerous occassions on which I kept vigil while you were feverish, knowing how pain-ridden you already were. And we've had already a number of lovely conversations, truly.''

'' 'm so-sorry, sorry, ma'am… don't remem…'' he muttered, miserably. ''

''But you're not to worry a bit about that!'' She exclaimed. '' You're only now barely beginning to recover, as I said. You'll be fine, and you'll be able to recollect more and more clearly as you regain your health and strength once more.

I know that's so. I saw it happen time and again, when one of our dear, brave boys took a wound, or was felled by an illness. Young men are as resilient as Indian rubber, but not very patient with the process of recuperation, wouldn't' you agree?''

'' Yeah… uh… yes, ma'am. Don' figure fellas much care for … keepin' still… stayin' put… that kinda thing. Druther be up an' doin… most th' time.'' he answered.

''And so you shall be, I assure you. But rest is prerequisite to that outcome. And I know you will comply with that necessity, if only to keep from relapsing. I know you will do as I ask, for your own sake, for your recovery, won't you? Now, please be absolutely straightforward with me on this matter, moving about that way has you in pain again, does it not, my boy?''

''Ye-yeah.'' he told her, reluctantly, except that talking to her, was the only way he knew to keep her here, beside him. ''Reckon it does.''

''Then, even though I know how you young men much prefer to do without such aids as much as possible, you truly must take more medicine. And I know you will do as I ask, in order to rest and become well again. I know you will, won't you, my good lad?'' She asked.

'' Yeah.'' he agreed, as she beamed bright as daybreak at him. Somebody … there might have been somebody who smiled this wonderfully and called him 'my good lad' or something like that… But all there was now was the pounding, driving pain and the woman who'd come back again to ease it.

She was kind, benevolent, calm and tender. She was caring and soothing and plumb gorgeous. She held the cup to his mouth again and he sipped at the warming stuff. Then she put one hand up to his forehead, and he wished she'd put her hands in his. She was just about perfect, he figured. And she'd come back again, to push both his pain and his fear away. He'd do just about anything she asked him.

''There, that should surely help you rest. And I'll go back to my reading, now. Do you remember we discussed the matter, some days past and decided on _Ivanhoe_ next, or we thought about taking up one of dear Mr Dickens' novels… Do you remember our talking about the next book I'd read to you while you rest?'' She asked

''N-no, ma'am. '' He admitted, mostly feeling the warm from the medicine and the liquor it was mixed in now, seeping through him. '' … wisht… I did… ''

''And as I said, that's nothing for you to worry about, not just now. I'll sit right here and read to you, my boy, as I did before. I'm sure you'll remember reading, or hearing _Ivanhoe_ read to you, once we get started, my lad.

I'm sure you know _Ivanhoe. _ I'm sure it resonates with you, as deeply as it does with me. You want to be a fine young man, straightforward, courageous and self-effacing as all true heroes are. I'll read to you, of course, that will be very comforting, I'm sure. I have my copy of _Ivanhoe, _the one I've kept with me nearly six years now, right here with me, the one my dearest, dearest darling gave me…

I'll read to you from it, and then I'm certain you'll recall it… I know you will!'' Her gaze seemed to turn away from his face for a moment, leaving him without its brightness and warmth. But she was only reaching for a book, he saw, and then looking his way again, looking at him again and smiling so kind-heartedly.

'' Yes, my dearest darling, yes, you brought me back this copy of _Ivanhoe, the one_ I sent with you, when you rode off to become the great hero you dreamt of being. And you did become that, my dearest boy! You are the greatest hero I have ever known! And your _Ivanhoe_, I have it here, I keep it with me, always! Yes, my darling, my dearest boy! I remember always how you loved that grand old story. We all loved Walter Scott's stories… They rang so true with us all, even before we saw them all coming so terribly true in our own beautiful world -- lost forever, now!'' She was saying, and he loved the sound of her fervent, fiery voice.

But the warmth and ease from the medicine made it hard for the man on the bed to comprehend who the lovely, kind woman was speaking to now. She couldn't be calling him her 'dearest darling', could she? He couldn't forget someone as amazing, as kind and as beautiful as she was, loving him so much, could he? But when she turned her wide, bright smile back to him, it didn't seem to matter so very much, really. She was here, again. She was easing him, once more. She was caring for him. She was driving off the pain he felt himself nearly drowning in, before she returned.

'' I … I want… t' remember… '' he murmured, hearing his own voice so low, so weary he wondered if she could hear him at all.

''Naturally, you do. And you shall. I'm very well assured of that.'' She nodded. '' Now, please, do rest. It's the best thing for you, now. Please,

let the medicine help you as it's meant to, my dear boy.''

''I… I … will… I … prom… promise.'' he answered, feeling as though it was

her words, more than anything else that wrapped him warmly, softly in cotton wool, or cotton batting. He leaned into that warmth and softness, somehow certain of the strength that lay behind it. This was surely her strength, ready and willing that he should rest within it, as if within the circle of loving arms.

''That's fine, then. That's all you need do. I know a Southron boy will never break his solemn promise, once it's given to a Southron lady. I know you will never be forsworn with me, my lad, that's simply not in your nature, or your upbringing. I know that's so. I know you were raised to revere and cherish and defend all genteel, gently-bred womanhood.

And just perhaps listening to Sir Walter's fine, old story will help you recall that for yourself. Perhaps just a gentle reminder is all that's needed, to help your recollection. Now I'm here once more, and I shall help you understand all you need to know. But we're not going to rush that process, that understanding. No, no, of course not. There's no need to compel what will come in due course, in due time. For now, the main thing for you to comprehend, my lad is that you're safe here, that you're under my protection. And no one, no one will gainsay me here. You came to my rescue, my boy, and I intend to wholly return the favor! A knight-errant, a champion of defenseless womanhood, that's what you proved yourself to be, my lad.

And I shall now be your champion, as it were. A true gallant is what you showed yourself, and I shall without question show my indebtedness, my gratitude for your help! Why, I might not be here beside you now, if you hadn't followed those fine, old Southron principles, if you hadn't come to my rescue, like a true young gallant, an authentic knight-errant! I owe you a great deal indeed, and you simply must allow me to make good on that obligation. And when you're well, when you've recovered, I'll make sure you understand my feelings on the subject, and where they spring from. When you have your strength and your vigor back again, I'll tell you the whole, entire extraordinary story, I promise.

There's much you'll want to know, and much you have every right to … hear from me, my boy. I have a great many things I hope to ask you as well, to talk with you about, when you've recuperated. It would only tire and perhaps confuse you, now. Suffice to say, I am very glad indeed to have this time to spend with you now , this chance to set things to rights. And there have been so many, there are so many things that need … No, no, I said I would wait to broach that subject. I said I wouldn't try to compel your remembrance. '' She smiled at him again, sighing and he shook his head, as her wide, brilliant eyes shone with tears.

'' Please, don't… don't hold back. I … think… '' he said, shrugging, the warm, comforting fog from the drink she'd given him wrapping still more deeply around his mind and his voice as well. '' … mebbee it's easier… t' talk with a … a stranger.''

''Ah, now, I believe that's so, my lad. But I also believe you're still resisting the rest, the sleep you need. But perhaps I can begin … perhaps this will help you, I know speaking of it helps me… and that's horridly selfish, isn't it?''

''No. I … 'm getting' sleepy, honest. But … I like … listenin' to you.'' he admitted, with a crooked grin. '' I … y' have a … real … nice voice, a

pretty one, if y' don't mind me sayin'… ''

She laughed warmly again and shook her head, which brought a few curling tendrils of her light, bright hair to frame her face. ''Oh, my dear, there isn't a woman alive who objects to sincere flattery.

And while I'm sure you were being sincere, the plain fact is, once we reach a certain age, I assure you there isn't a woman alive who objects to any flattery at all.''

''Oh, no, I meant it!'' he insisted with all the force he could muster, then looked away again, feeling his face growing hot. '' I … mebbee …Figure I shouldn't say… But I … I think you must be … just about … perfect.''

''Well, now, I'm afraid that was a bit of an overstatement!'' Pascale said. But she was smiling at him, so he didn't much mind her somewhat reproving tone. '' I don't believe there is any such thing as perfection … not in the living world. And even if there was, I'm certainly not a paragon. I've known some dear, dear wonderful souls who surely came close … But they're … long since gone, my dear… long since gone, and we can't bring back the past… can we?

No, as much as we might wish for old times, or old loves, they can never return to us. And I know that's so. I've tried for such a long while, now, to keep my very dearest ones beside me, if only in my fondest imaginings. And on my best days, I can feel them surrounding, loving, and sheltering me still. And in my bleakest hours, I can only feel the rending that came … when they… when they were lost.

And you know the kind of suffering I have reference to. I know you've suffered, my young 'hero'. And from that you know how haunted one can be by such horrendous shattering pain and grief. It can be enough, at times to nearly drive one mad, don't you agree? We struggle on, we make do with the shards and fragments of our lives, our world. But nothing can be, nothing ever will be the same, again. '' She sighed and he wanted to do something, anything to chase the pain from her voice, from her face and from her amazing eyes.

'' Please, don't be … '' he started to say, and stopped. Surely anything he could say to her, when her sorrows hit so hard, would be worthless, pointless. And the medicine was working strongly on him now, at last. He couldn't exactly corral his thoughts as close together as he wanted. He couldn't seem to do much but blink and smile at and listen to the lovely, caring woman beside him.

''Don't be sad?'' She responded. '' You're very kind, truly Only, I'm not genuinely sad right this moment, my lad… Strangely enough, these days I'm not nearly as weighed down with my own griefs as I was before. I seem to have turned a corner… I seem to have found a new path, a new direction, or perhaps it's only a new focus for my prior ways. Yes, that's what's different, what's changed about me, now. I feel I have a new goal, one which I hope very much to yet accomplish. And I believe this is a change for the better, I surely hope so. It may however be, that I'm deluding myself, yet again, my boy. I hope that's not the case.

I hope the changes I feel, the ones I hope for, are not merely a change in my objective, my target for the same, old, and bitter, self-devouring aspirations. Nevertheless, I am more determined than ever to set things to rights, as best I can. One must make amends, or at the least, attempt to, in order to see their way clear, at last. But you don't know what I am referring to, of course. And I am quite loathing to telll you. I have gone leagues away from being anything resembling perfect, my lad. But we can leave that for another day, another discussion. Suffice to say, that I have realized my own profound errors, my own dreadful wrongdoings.

And I am eager to redress, to answer for, and to rectify them, to the furthermost extent possible, now. And all those who believe they have seen the best and the worst of me, all those who think I've run out my string… are due to be surprised … perhaps even amazed by what I mean to do, presently.

And if I can achieve this new, this changed objective, my boy… perhaps those who have wondered, those who have doubted and those who have, more rightly than I care to say, remonstrated with me during the past few years, during the grand endeavors may understand, may even try to absolve me. All those who have chided, questioned or disparaged my central purpose in all these matters, will have their assessment, just as my own judgment has been, rather drastically altered. And when that time, that day of true comprehension dawns at last, I intend that the core truths of our lives, our work and our chronicle will be clear as day!

Well at the least, I will make certain, I assure you, that those who have underestimated me to the greatest extent, will come to comprehend their misconception! They will come to know the core truths of all my life, and the lives of my beloveds! And they will regret, they will lament their horrific conduct! They will grieve their vile behavior! They will bewail their appalling transgressions! They will retract, withdraw and recant their every prevarication! And we, my dearest, dearest, my own heart's darling , we will be vindicated, we will be justified, and we will be well and truly compensated! We will make our truths fully known, just as I long since promised you! We will at long last tell the world our true story!''

'' 'story…'' the man on the bed muttered from far within the sheltering fog of the drug she'd given. '' … story…, tru gallan'… ni'-erran'… ?'' he repeated, feeling a lot more like a feverish, confused little boy than a ' true gallan' … whatever that could be. He tried reaching for her, reaching in the direction of her low, compelling voice, at least.

But he couldn't seem to take hold of anything. His hands, the right peeking out one end of a sling, the left aching from doing the work of both, as much as he could manage now, wouldn't close on the objects around him now, anymore than his minds could keep hold of it's whirring, fogging thoughts. But now she came close again, bringing her jasmine scent, her handsome face, and her wide, bright smile.

Now her silvered grey eyes were gleaming at him, shining with her unshed tears and fierce resolve. Her eyes were surprising, engaging, shining at him, now, glinting like faraway lakes on a high, empty plain.

'' Knight-errant.'' her musical laughter came again. ''And I think … yes, here's your _Ivanhoe_, here's the dear, old, battered copy… I'll read some to you… I'll read just the beginning … just the start to you, for now. I know you'll remember, as we go on… Now, lay back, that's right. Lay back and listen to the dear, old, grand, old story…:

In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the greater part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and the pleasant town of Doncaster. The remains of this extensive woods are still to be seen at the noble seats of Wentworth, of Warncliffe Park, and around Rotherham. Here haunted of yore the fabulous Dragon of Wantley, here were fought many of the most desperate battles during the Civil Wars of the Roses, and here also flourished in ancient times those bands of gallant outlaws, whose deeds have been rendered so popular in English song. .'' She read. [ from _Ivanhoe_ by Sir Walter Scott, Chapter One]

Her voice was real good to listen to, low and strong and warm. And he did his best to listen, for a while. He did his level best and listened, even after he could make no sense at all of the long, intricate, school-book sounding words… It sounded very fine and high-minded, like schoolbooks always sounded to him, when he'd been anywhere around them. But when that might have been, or where was just another something he couldn't take or keep hold of, just now.

A lot of fine, good, maybe even needful things kept slipping beyond his reach, whenever he tried to reach them, and between his fingers, whenever he tried to hold them, or tried to hold on. He couldn't, his fingers plumb refused to grasp anything at all. And on top of that, his left hand shook like an old, old man's when he tried to hold anything, And it seemed as though this might be something he should be worried by. But he couldn't do that so much couldn't raise the energy. And trying would, certain sure send the pounding, punishing waves of pain back through him. Trying, thinking, struggling… all those were exactly what the pain wanted him to do, so it could come back and swallow him whole, next time!

Her resonant, flowing, faraway voice didn't want him to struggle, to try, to think a bit. It wanted him to lay back in the cotton batting and drift and rest… and maybe even sleep, again. It seemed an awfully long time must have passed since he recollected sleeping … Sleeping … that was what the comforting, droning, and musical sounds somewhere far above him wanted him to do, now. And why shouldn't he? What was wrong with laying back and letting the cotton-batting wrap around him the way it was anyhow, thicker and warmer, closer and softer all the time now?

The sounds, even now that they made no sense anymore, surely didn't want the hurting to come back on him, anymore than he did. Why in blazes should they? Why in blazes should he, either? The sounds wrapped around him like some incredibly, strange, soft bonds. And he no longer understood that they kept him lying where he was, wherever that might be, now. The sounds held him close and held the pain at bay. He could learn to love sounds that kept that blazing, tearing pain at arm's length so he could rest, now, just rest… just for now, whenever now, or later might be…

The sounds kept him safe, and the barest whisper of a thought or dream or memory told him he'd not been kept safe like this from that hurting in just about … ever. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to curl up like an infant in the warm, strong sounds that seemed almost to embrace him. They wanted him here. They'd hold him, certain sure and far, far away from all the hurting he'd ever known, all the pain he'd always, always known.

They wanted him free of that ever-present, never-ending emptiness, that hollowed-out, torn to pieces loneliness and grieving. He couldn't remember when or where, why or how he knew those had always, always gnawed at him, body, mind, heart and spirit. But the warmth, the strength, the surety of this cocoon of sounds was as far as he'd ever been able … was the only place he'd ever escaped, that he could remember … the only haven… and only here could he ever … win free.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER NINE North Platte, Nebraska, the 1870s

'' What in the devil?'' Cooper Smith exclaimed, losing his temper and nearly losing his footing as he slammed his right fist into his left palm. His right leg was still splinted, but differently now, so he could get around without a crutch, or if the scout could help it at all, without any devices or anyone else's help. ''What the devil do you mean, Adam? Jess couldn't have left Laramie three weeks ago! Even if he dawdled at every watering hole between there and North Platte it would only take the boy something like a fortnight to make the trip. And my cousin Jess has never in his life dawdled anywhere!''

''Calm down, friend-Cooper.'' Adam Gordonson insisted, keeping his own manner as unruffled as he could in these circumstances. ''I'm simply reporting the contents of the telegram your cousin's partner, Mr. Sherman sent, answering Jem's last wire. But go on, read it for yourself. '' the actor agent frowned, and handed Coop the offending document.

'' 'Dr. Singer,'' Coop read half out loud. '' Stop. Worried too. Stop. Certain of date Jess left. Stop. March 8th, 2 days past my birthday. Stop. Search started this end. Stop. Please advise any word. S. Sherman. March 30th.' All right, all right. 'm sorry I hollered at you, Adam. But this is bad. This is now, officially, very bad.''

''You're right, Cooper. In fact, it's very, very bad, because now you're starting to sound like my partner, here.'' Jemmy Singer said, walking over

to read the telegram over Coop's shoulder.

''He could do worse!'' Adam protested, but with a half grin on his face. '' But I can't help wondering something, based on what I've only recently learned about my best friend and partner.''

'' And that would be what, exactly, partner?'' Jemmy asked, his eyes narrowing at the flippant tone Adam was taking.

'' I've learned from Cooper that you were very fond of staging elaborate pranks and of playing complicated, if not downright convoluted practical jokes, as a boy, Jem. And I'm wondering now if your younger cousin from Texas isn't simply returning the favor now, as it were.'' the actor explained.

''Adam could just be right, Jemmy.'' Coop noted. ''Jess does have that same, playful sense of humor.''

''Adam couldn't possibly be right, Cousin.'' Jemmy half smiled back. '' It's not in his run of the play contract, not this time around. But I'm sure when negotiations come around again he'll be making exactly that kind of extravagant demand.''

''Hmmph! Extravagant, he says! But let's not get too far off the track here, fellows. Would your cousin go to this much trouble to pull a prank at Jem's expense?'' Adam asked

''Like I said, Jess might, if it was only Jemmy and me he was tricking. But that's not what my gut's sayin'.'' Coop shook his head. '' And I may be wrong. But I don't think Jess'd let the folks over in Laramie worry this way. They're in a fair way to bein' a second family to him. So, I think it's more likely Jess's got himself into some real trouble, this time. And you can't exactly send Teo back to those sobs, so he could pull Jess' back into the fryin' pan, now, can you?''

''No.'' Jemmy shook his head, frowning. ''And that's not the only thing I can't… we can't do now. I've been looking through the packet young Neddy brought us, from his father. But without anything to corroborate those journals and letters, with the best will in the world, it's never going to stand up in court, if we ever get those bastards into a courtroom!''

''Wait, Jemmy. '' Coop asked. '' Now I don't understand what you're saying. What's wrong with Morrissey's records?''

'' They'll be considered accomplice testimony' or evidence.'' Adam answered for his partner.

'' In other words, Neddy's father has been part and parcel of this so called 'Company' since it started abducting and killing people, three years ago. So whatever he sent, whatever he might say for the record when we find him, it won't have even half the weight in court as evidence from a disinterested party. In fact, any defense attorney worthy of his hire will do all he can to keep those records and journals from being admitted as evidence, period.''

''Not only that, but I've been working with Teo, putting his report together. And he knows, when we go to trial these bastards defense will likely attack his testimony on those grounds too.,, Jemmy added. '' Either that or they'll say he was lying the whole time he spent with the Company, working to trap them. So, he must still be lying, perjuring himself in order to make our case. Nothing about this case has been easy from the start. And its not getting any better as time goes on.''

''But you still have the testimony of someone they tried their best to murder outright… me. And that will be worth a lot to … your case, right?'' Coop asked. ''Or won't it? Why are you both shaking your heads, now? I got beat within an inch… And I remember what they said, what they did and what they look like! So what's wrong, now?''

'' Cooper, what's wrong is what else they did that day. And you'll be under oath, you won't be able to dodge the attorney's questions.'' Jemmy took his turn answering, frowning as he did so. '' So, for example, they'll ask what happened to you at that creek bed, besides being whaled on by a group of men you'd never seen before that day. They'll ask what happened once you were face down in the creek.''

''What happened when …'' Coop started to ask and then barely held back from cussing a blue streak. '' They're going to ask if I remember bein' pumped full of that damn all morphine, and how foggy headed I was, after, aren't they?''

''That's what I'd ask, in their place, surely. 'm sorry, Cousin. But the fact that we're sure they gave you those drugs doesn't do anything for our case, at all.''

''You mean it doesn't help your case, don't you, Cousin?'' Coop scowled.

'' It doesn't.'' Mac Macquillan agreed, walking into the small 'parlour' in the middle of their rented rooms. ''And that's not all the news, either, fellows. The pressure to finally get this investigation moving or shut it down is building, up the line from the Director. We're running out of time, my friends. And you don't look as surprised as Adam does, Youngster. Why is that?''

''Because I've expected them to shut the whole investigation down long before now, Prof.'' Jemmy answered, sighing. ''We've been trying to track and trying to find and trying to make a case against these murderers for over a year and a half now.

And they've been out on their murder-spree twice that long. But for each step forward we've taken to literally or figuratively hang these sobs with, we've fallen three steps back, haven't we?''

''I was going to say only a step and a half back, myself, Jem.'' Adam quipped. His younger partner however didn't even half grin, this time, in fact he shuddered and went quiet. ''What's wrong, partner?'' the actor demanded. ''Jem, what's the matter?''

''Oh, nothing much.'' Jemmy finally answered, when Adam put one strong hand on his shoulder. '' I just remembered saying prett much the exact same thing about one step forward and all that… not long before you got beaten within an inch, partner, and then I went t to find the Courier-plotters. And that turned out… real well, too. That's all.''

''Just a jovial fellow all the time, these days, aren't you?'' Adam shook his head.

''Always have been.'' Jemmy said, rubbing his forehead and his eyes.

''Yeah, especially when you get another of these prize-winning headaches from carousing all night over somebody else's report, and drinking too much coffee.'' the actor frowned. ''Now, Jemison old man, sit down over here. And I'll teach Cooper how to get rid of an annoying, overly pessimistic partner.''

''How to get rid… '' Coop laughed.

''Adam means he's going to try to put me to sleep with a neck-rub.'' Jemmy groused. But his head was aching fiercely so he sat on the chaise by the fireplace, with his back to the actor.

'' Try, he says, try. This works like a charm, friend-Cooper.'' Adam boasted, winking at Coop and Mac, as he strolled over to stand right behind Jemmy. '' This sends Jem sound asleep in about the time it takes to recite a sonnet. In fact, I sometimes do just that as part of the process. Works just like a charm, almost every time. And when it doesn't, I just haul off and clonk Jem a good one over the noggin.''

''Which actually explains a lot about how my brains don't work as well as they used to.'' Jemmy jibed back.

Adam ignored the comment, and in fact, began quietly to recite Sonnet 29, rubbing the younger agent's neck and shoulders the whole time. :

''When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy, contented least,

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state

Like to the lark at break of day arising, From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate,

For thy sweet love such wealth brings, that then I scorn to change my state with kings'' [Wm. Shakespeare]

Coop watched this process with some interest. And then had to swallow a surprised laugh. Jemmy was in fact, sound asleep, stretched out, softly snoring on the chaise before Adam finished his recitation. Adam shrugged and walked away from the sleeping soldier-agent to join Mac and Coop across the room.

'' He likes to pretend to be an absolute Philistine.'' the actor explained, briefly. ''But the truth is, which you may know, growing up with him, that Jem has a very good ear, and a really fine baritone singing range. And the shame of it is, I don't think anyone's heard Jem sing in years, except when he's at home in Raleigh, trying to help one of his cousin Celia's young ones get back to sleep.''

Coop nodded. ''Look, I'm surely no kind of legal expert. But isn't there something we can do to keep this … to keep those killers from staying on the loose, or getting off Scot-free once they're caught, good and proper?''

'' I don't know.'' Adam admitted. ''I'm fairly limited in that area myself, since I quit law school, my second year. Now, in my own defense on that score, I have to tell you that Thomas here was already trying to recruit me into the Army, because the War was going to start at any time. And he was also trying to sell me on this wild idea he and Tom Harper had to organize some kind of intelligence gathering branch within and for the Army! And the rest, as they say, is history, mostly the kind that's never going to get written down, anywhere.''

''He's exaggerating.'' Macquillan said, with a taut grin of his own lighting his craggy features. '' I wasn't trying to get Adam into the Army. He's not suited for that kind of thing, and he never was. It was just that the latter organization, which hadn't officially even been organized, yet, was under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Army, which was under the War Department. Now, to get back to the present and your questions:

We need two things to make a solid case, to win an indictment and then a conviction, against these murderers, once they're caught. And we've all sworn they will be. We're not giving up. We need as Jem was saying, evidence and or testimony that supports, that backs those things up, that doesn't come from anyone with any ties to these killers. And your testimony does help to some extent on that part.

You shouldn't think it wouldn't help, it will. That's what corroborating evidence means. And the second is what Jemmy was getting frustrated over. We need a lot what we have very little of, so far, evidence to show, to prove, we hope, that these attacks, and murders were planned well in advance, premeditated.

We need that, because premeditated murder never sits well with a jury, any jury, say _'no, no, they didn't mean to!'_ And, actually, we have a lot that fits under the first category, now, especially with Teodor's report, young Neddy's deposition, and the documents he brought from his father. And we'll have more when our other youngsters, who were working to trip those bastards up, get 'back in the fold'.

'' Wait, hold on a second! '' Coop interrupted, ''Are you saying there've been other fellows working against those killers, the way Teo was, when I had the 'pleasure' of meeting them?''

'' That's right.'' Adam nodded. '' Off and on for just over a year now, pulling them out and sending others in, when it seemed most feasible, the way we did with Teo, we've had a total of what was it, Mac, nine or ten reckless wrangos putting their necks on the line? Not that Jem or I, or half a dozen more senior agents wouldn't have been more than happy to do something along those lines. It's the kind of covert work, spying, to be blunt about it we all started out doing going behind the lines, during the War. ''

'' We've had ten young field agents working covertly there, altogether, and not all working together. In fact, one of the precautions we took was that not all of them even know each other, much less know they're fellow-agents. And I agreed with the higher ups, who thought this called for the younger, and definitely crazier type of … reckless wrango.'' Macquillan nodded.

''But the same higher-ups who want this investigation either concluded or just closed down, are also putting pressure on the Director to pull these youngsters doing the field work. And they won't like that anymore than Teodor did. And I might have to give that order, anyway. And there's no use glowering at me, Adam, none. As I said, this comes from higher up the chain of command than our mutual friend, the Director, a lot higher. ''

''Was I glowering?'' Adam shrugged.

''You were. And in truth, after hearing what went on with young Neddy and his father in Cheyenne, that they both were targeted to be killed, I can't help thinking maybe those higher-ups aren't wrong. It sounds to me, in fact as though these murderers are finally turning against their own, now. And from what Teodor said, the leaders of that band may be going over the edge, or they may be simply, coldly, looking for any reason they can find to cut down the number of people who know what they've been doing for three years now.

And either one of those things could end up being very much to our advantage. But if I end up ordering those youngsters to pull out, it will be because I have no intention of them being found out and killed, themselves. Our field agents are always at risk, of course, it's part of the job. But I tend to draw the line at allowing men who take my orders to be murdered outright, these days.''

''These days?'' Coop repeated. '' Did you … did your …field agents go out expecting to get murdered, before now?''

'' Pretty much all the time.'' Adam chuckled. ''But that wasn't long after the War. And back then, on a fairly regular basis we had a lot of … how can I put this delicately…?''

'' Really, really touchy former Rebs to deal with?'' Coop asked, with a tired smile. '' I know the type. Oh what the devil! For a little while, right after the '65, I WAS the type!''

''I guess that's part of what's had us bewildered by this case.'' the actor admitted. ''This batch of madmen, as far as we know are all Southerners. And … they've been preying on their own… as it were, eating their young. I'm not saying it would make sense to anyone but a madman… or madwoman, as seems to be the case here. But … what could make them turn on men who fought for the same Cause they did? What could make these people, who survived the War, prey on other families, other Southerners, who went through the same ordeal they did?''

'' Oh, they're completely crazed. You've got that right.'' Coop agreed. '' I spent just enough time with some of those locos to know that. And as I said, time was, I might have been spouting the same angry cant they were, all about how the war, the Conflict isn't over. It can't be over, 'cause that would mean we know and worse, we admit we lost!

And how it must've been turncoats and traitors who lost the war for the South! It just couldn't be 'loyal Southrons' who failed so completely, you see? So, I suppose… No, I don't have to suppose at all! I just remembered something else that mad woman said to me, all the while she sat that big steel dust stallion like she was born riding, and riding astride, at that, thinkin' I was Jess!''

''Well, what did she say?'' Mac demanded, taking a step closer to the scout.

'' Well, she was making it pretty clear to me that she knew something about our family, going on about where … my parents and Jess' parents all grew up, and where their people came from. But she seemed to get that all mixed up at first. In fact she got it backwards.'' Coop frowned and shook his head, and seriously considered starting to pace the room the way Jemmy had been doing. Remembering the Widow, and the day he met her, made the scout feel very much like 'taking heads and asking questions later'.

''See, that Widow started out to say that Jess' grandmother Mirielle Harper, his Daddy's momma, was born and raised in Maryland, and that meant she was 'a Northern girl'. And to her way of thinking, that meant Jess isn't truly a Southerner at all! And G-d knows, Jess has heard that a few thousand times before, from one ignorant so and so or another. But this real crazed lady, she truly seemed to believe that claptrap! She made it sound like Jess can't expect, or be expected to think or act or be treated anything like a true Southron, because he has a Yankee grandmother!

And what she didn't even mention is that Jess Granma Miri, Frank Harper's momma, was Creole. And some folks have a problem with that, too, I've heard, and so has Jess. Seems like its folks who don't understand the first thing about what Creole people truly are, or where and when and how they came here, who always want to make some trouble about it. Reckon our friend Teo Bracamante has run into that kind of pure nonsense, a time or two himself.''

'' He has indeed, and dealt with the fools who brought it up quite handily.'' Adam answered, after glancing at the chaise to see if Jemmy stayed asleep so far. His partner was still quietly snoring there, so Adam turned his full attention back to the conversation.

''So the Widow got her facts on young Jacob's grandparents wrong, left a substantial portion out, in fact and then corrected herself to some extent? Thomas, are you wondering the same thing I am, right now?''

'' I am. Cooper, clearly this Widow is about as crazy as they come. That being said, I still wonder, what reason she could have for saying what she did about your cousin's grandparents, to begin with. And once she realized she had it wrong, why would she admit that?'' Macquillan went on probing, squinting at Coop and shaking his head in turn at such ideas.

'' Mac, I'm glad to say I don't understand how that madwoman's mind works one bit.'' Coop answered, sitting down on the edge of the desk the Bostonian had taken over. ''But what I think now, is she was trying to get me, that is, to get Jess real riled just then. And it would've worked like a charm on my younger cousin. I know, because it was starting to work on me! Now, at that point, I'd already had one go-round with her thugs, especially that fellow Neddy says is named Howell.

So I may not have this all by rote… But I know she changed the 'text' of her little 'sermon', to say that it was _Jess' grandfather Elias_ _Harper, _who wasn't Southron, being as he was born and raised up in Canada, in Quebec somewhere. And I remember pretty danged well how she finished up. She said something like Jess' lapses in proper Southron behavior must be 'excused' because ol' Eli not bein' from this country at all, much less from the South meant Jess isn't a true Southron, no how!

And I was standing there thinking, she's not only crazed, she's danged lucky Jess i_sn't _the one of us standing here right now. Because the boy likely would've gone at her … and gotten them both dead before he finished. And the thing ism anyone who truly knows our family knows all that and most don't give a flyin' fig! But this _loca_ surely did! '' Coop sighed and stood up again.

''But right now, it is what this madwoman thinks that matters, as far as Jess is concerned. And it's not truly his grandparent's people that she's got against him, it seems, not for the most part. So you're probably right about that, Cooper. It's very likely, in fact, from what young Lee Edward's told us so far that the Widow Pascale said those things to provoke you.

From what Teo's said, and what Neddy's father sent, all of this nightmare has to do with his younger brother, Neddy's namesake, riding with Jacob in the 8th, and most of all, with what happened to that young man. Mac, you had Sean Oriel Hoynes and Jere Hoffner both, down in N'Orleans lately, trying to check on that, didn't you? Did they find out anything more?'' Adam asked his old friend and mentor.

'' We found out that Edward Denys Morrissey died in New Orleans, nearly six years ago.'' 'Ori' Hoynes, a tall, broad shouldered Irish immigrant from Houston answered, joining Coop and the other agents.

''More specifically, we found out he died in the French Quarter.'' Hoynes' dark haired, dark bearded partner, Jeremy Hoffner, Danny's young cousin from New York added, striding in just behind Ori as usual. Not many people could keep up with the long legged Hoynes, Jere was one who came close. ''And he wasn't 'jus' visitin' as some of the folks down there call it, at the time. Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey had been living in the Quarter for nearly six years by the time he died.''

''All right, Jere, you look like there's still something more to this.'' Adam suggested. ''What is it?''

'' Jem was right. The older Neddy Morrissey died from an overdose of morphine, one he gave himself, as far as the word back in the cribs goes. That wasn't in the official post mortem, of course. Officially, he died of complications of consumption and pneumonia. And the coroner for the parish that year was a very well connected gentleman, connected to some of the oldest families in the parish, or in the city, or on the delta for that matter. ''

''Including the Morrisseys themselves?'' Macquillan guessed at which the two newcomers nodded. ''And who else?''

''And the family our young Neddy's aunt married into, the Pascales. Her husband raised money and raised at least two regiments for Louisiana and was a general officer, Phillips Napier Pascale. '' Ori finished.

''But if he … the older Neddy died five years ago,'' Coop shook his head, frowning. '' why was it only three years back that this damned to Perdition crazy woman started up her 'Company'?''

''It warn't then, Coop.'' the younger Neddy answered, looking up from his chair by the fireplace. ''Th' Widow, thet's what most th' fellas call her, b'hind her back anyhow, she started plannin' all this right up after m' uncle Neddy up an' died. ''

'' Neddy, do you know that's the truth of the matter for certain?'' Macquillan asked. ''And if so, how?''

'' I know 'cause she sent for m' Daddy to come on th' double-quick. An' he brung me along, 'cause he figured when he got th' word about uncle Neddy dyin' an' all, thet was her reason for wirin' him. They'd been, kinda on th' outs for a little while, back then. '' the youngster told them, standing up as Adam and Coop, and then the others crossed the room to him.

''Neddy, are you saying your aunt didn't send for your father, five years ago, because their younger brother died?'' Adam asked.

'' No, suh, thet was part of it. But thet warn't the whole of it, not by a long shot. An' figure you're gonna ask me how I'd know there was more to what she wanted, back then, cos I was still a kid, o' course. I wasn't yet thirteen, at th' time. An' thet's th' way I know, cause dint nobody there ever pay me no mind, whilst they was talkin' an' plannin' an' arguin' an' scrappin' about what Th' Widow wanted done. So thet was how I heard 'em. '' the youngster explained.

''An' it warn't I started in t' listen when I shouldn't. I only started in t' listen 'cause I was right worried 'bout how m' Daddy was doin', with his brother passin' on. See, thet there's 'nother thing you might not know yet about Th' Widow. She likes to make out as how dint nobody else but her give a flyin… din't nobody else give a care thet m' uncle Neddy died. An' thet warn't so a bit! M' Daddy, he was broken up 'bout it, somethin' fierce. He truly was, even tho' they was naught but half-brothers.'''

'' Alright, Neddy. That's fine. That sounds like a piece of the puzzle we haven't had 'till now.'' Macquillan nodded, with what his long term partners recognized as something very close to a smile on his sharp features.

''Now come on back and sit down, son, because I think you just opened up a whole new laundry list of questions we need the answers to. And I know you've been spending most of your time since you got here answering our questions. So it may seem as though you've told us all you possibly can. But clearly, since we haven't broached the subject with you of how the Company started, that's not the case. And …''

'' Excuse me… Mac…'' Coop interrupted somewhat reluctantly.

'' I think there's another question we need to ask Neddy here, before he starts on what happened or didn't happen five or six years ago.''

'' I think you're right. '' Macquillan agreed. ''Go ahead. If your question is what I think, we should have thought to ask the youngster before now, Cooper.''

''Thanks.'' the Texan nodded, turned back to the boy and led him to sit back by the fireplace again. ''Now, Neddy, it seems like you're going to be even more help to the case against the Company than we thought, because you're a … good listener. But what I should have asked you before now is this:

Do you know, or did you hear the widow, or any one else in the Company say where they meant to go, after they left Cheyenne? This is pretty important, Neddy, because it could tell us where they might have taken your father, or my cousin, supposin' either one of them is … '' Coop cleared his suddenly very dry throat, swallowed hard and went on. '

' We are supposin' either one or both of them are … with the Company, now. So, do you remember hearing where they might go, next?''

''Not exactly.'' Neddy told him, frowning at disappointing Coop and the others.'' Th' Widow she started out sayin' we'd keep to thet place she bought 'er leased outside Chey. Thet's what she said when we got settled in there… from leavin …th' North Platte. But, she never has lighted any one place for more n' a couple months, whilst we were … comin' on west an'… y'know, lookin' for … folks. An' what I think is she allus has another place in mind to light out for, should one of th' places we stayed be found out an' such.

An' what I did hear is th' Widow an' ol' Solly, allus talkin' about how back-trackin' was a real fine way t' … make … t' dodge if'n folks was on your tail.. only she said she was allus gonna have a supp-supter … a real good dodge ready, especially after th' final sortie. Th' final sortie, thet's what Th' Widow calls th' last time she'd send th' Company out after … whomsoever she was after. Figure it might've been thet cousin of yours, though, Coop. Figure thet means she means to double back at least some part on' th' way she already come, t' kinda sorta dust-over her tracks, y' see? An' if she does, thet would be for her to start on east from Chey, reckon.''

'' Reckon you're absolutely right about that, Neddy. '' Coop said, squeezing the boy's shoulder and standing up. ''Jemmy, 'm goin' to head over towards Cheyenne. I want to see if I can find those dusted-over tracks Neddy's talkin' about, between there and Laramie, or between Laramie and here. Figure I'll meet up with Jess' partner in a quick hurry when I get there, as he's already got th' search goin' from Laramie on out… ''

''I don't suppose you want any company to help you with tracking these lunatics, the ones who already tried to murder you, once, do you, Coop?'' Chris Hale asked his chief scout, frowning as he joined the group.

''Naw, Chris.'' Coop grinned, winking at the Wagonmaster. '' Figure I can handle a little scouting work on my own by now. That is what I … still get paid for, isn't it?''

''If you ever get back to work, yes, I suppose it is.'' Hale nodded, hiding a grin of his own. He didn't think Coop needed to know how glad the Wagonmaster was to have the scout ready and willing to argue with him, again. ''And of course you still have no idea when that might be, do you, Coop?''

''Just as soon as I get a few things straight with a few lunatics and make sure my magnet for disaster cousin's all right, would be my best guess, Chris.'' Coop answered, waiting for the older man to argue. ''B'sides, it was Jess they were tryin' to murder, not me. And I don't intend they should have their way this time, either. But you go on and catch up with the train, Chris. You must have a real hankerin' for Bill's sulking, Duke's hot temper, and Charlie's biscuits, by this time, don't you?''

''None of those are things I've had a hankering for, ever, even once in my entire life.'' Chris assured him. ''But when I get back to the train, after I make sure my magnet for disaster chief scout is all right, I'll make sure to tell Katie that's what you thought I've been missing.''

''Oh, great! She's probably already fit to be tied you stayed behind this long!'' Coop laughed. ''So much for that ramrod job she was offerin' me, a couple months ago!''

''That job offer was made before she found out you were crazy enough to take a beating meant for your cousin, as I recall.'' Chris chuckled. ''And right about now, I think I'd better stick around, to make sure you don't get that same idea all over again!''

'' And I thought you only meant to stay till I got back on my feet again.'' Coop laughingly challenged the Wagonmaster. ''Well, here I am, Chris, standin, walkin', breathin… all under my own power again. I'm doin' just fine. So, you really oughta think about getting back to the train, I'd say, before Barney takes over runnin' the whole outfit! Cause I'm not so sure the boy will hold my job for me, when that happens.''

''Wait a second!'' Jemmy exclaimed, sitting up on the chaise, and then striding over to look from his cousin to the Wagonmaster and back. ''Kathleen Elisabeth Crawley offered you a job, Cooper, and you didn't jump at the chance?''

''Nope. Didn't even hop at it, Cousin.'' Coop shook his head, grinning back as wide as the Rio Grande. ''Oh, that's right, I keep forgettin'! Chris, best you don't let Jemmy come back on the train. He's got a crush on Kate, somethin' awful!''

''And just how am I to keep your Cousin Jemmy from coming back up the trail with me, when I go?'' Hale asked. ''He is a grown man, you know. And I hear tell he has some pull with the government, these days.''

''Who, Jem?'' Adam laughed heartily. ''Don't let him fool you on that count. It's all part of the persona my partner takes on whenever he's working in the field himself, you see. Whenever Jemison wants to draw in, or scam some unsuspecting perpetrator, he gives out that he's an extremely well-connected, well-heeled Eastern nabob's grandson. He even manages to dress the part, sometimes, with sartorial advice, naturally enough, from yours truly. But that's all for show. In truth Jem's the least political, most self-effacing, least socially astute, and least ambitious agent the Federal government's ever had the misfortune to employ, well, except for Mac, of course!''

''Of course.'' Macquillan frowned.

Jemmy shook his head, and rolled his eyes now, giving a pitch-perfect rendition of one of Adam's patented world-weary sighs. ''My partner.'' The Carolinian physician-agent groaned. ''Tell you what, Cousin, why don't I ride to Laramie with you? I feel the urge to get away from Adam before he earns himself a punch in the mouth. And, I feel the need, even more than that, to apologize to Jess and to his friends in Laramie.''

''Apologize, Jemmy? What for?'' Coop, Ori, Chris, Jere, Mac and Adam chorused.

'' What for?'' Jemmy echoed, frowning and clenching his fist. ''If I hadn't written to the boy he would have stayed put where he was. And if I'd written more specifically what the problem was, it seems prett likely to me now, Jess would have stayed put and waited on me to come and get his ideas on this trouble with the 8th Texans! Instead, I erred on the side of too much caution, again. And now, we have no idea where Jess is or how much trouble he rode into, coming to see me!''

''Doctuh Singer, suh, I don't rightly think that's th' case.'' Neddy insisted, surprising all his new friends.

''Well, why not, Neddy?'' Singer asked. '' And I thought you were going to finally start calling me Jemmy.''

'' Well, I'll give it a try, surely… Doctuh Jemmy… It's what I started in tellin' Coop b'fore.

Th' Widow she prett well had it in mind to glom onta this cousin' of yours… since a just a bit b'fore m' uncle Neddy passed on, that'd be nigh onta six years back.'' Neddy explained.

''Six years ago?'' once more the older men chorused in surprise.

'' Well, she dint know his name all th' way back then. '' Neddy answered. ''But she sure as all get out knew she wanted to get hold of th' fella thet was with m' uncle right when he went t' some hospital or other in Atlanta, when he took some realbad hurt, after th' Yankees … got in there.

Well, she come to find out, an' not by th' most sociable ways, thet fella was this cousin Jess of yourn. An' onct Th' Widow knew it was him, thet was prett much what she set her mind t' doin', takin' hold o' him, y'see. So, it cain't rightly be your doin' should he be in trouble, should she hev found him, by now, Doctuh Jemmy, not a bit.''

''Neddy,'' Macquillan asked, as most of his partners and protégés went quiet. '' do you know how your aunt… the Widow, as you call her, even came close to finding out it was Cooper and Jemmy's cousin she was after? Do you have any idea how she could even guess that?''

''She dint, Mister Mac. She never guesses, not a … not a bit. '' Neddy insisted. ''She got ol' Solly, thet'd be Solomon Howell, who took second t' my Daddy in th' Company… to go after thet 8th Texas' records an' roster an' all. An' when she got thet, she cut it down t' just th' company uncle Neddy joined on with.

An' them was th' fellas she sent th' Company, on out t' find an glom onta for her, them an' their folks, an' thet was th' list ol' Solly set to memory. He's a stickler, Solomon is, for keepin' such stuff in his head, stead of in writin'. An' dint none of th' boys … I used t' ride with seen thet second list even onct, so I couldn't tell you which 8th Texas company thet come from. ''

''It was Company H.'' Jemmy supplied, shaking his head at a memory from fourteen years past. ''Jess made a lot of hay out of joining Terry's Rangers, Company H, which naturally, he said, must stand for Harper. And in three years time we couldn't figure out these killers were only going after one company from the 8th Texas?''

''Jemison, old man, just how… How in the very devil were we supposed to figure that?'' Adam demanded.

''Oh, no! Now we're really in trouble!'' Jemmy sighed, without answering the question.

''We're in trouble, surely, Cousin.'' Coop agreed. ''But why do you say that now?''

''Because, Cooper, now Adam's starting to sound like you!'' Singer exclaimed. ''And because we should have… No, make that I should have found out, or figured out exactly who was being targeted and stopped worrying about the rest of the 8th Texas veterans and their folks, at least two years ago, if not sooner! Of course 'the Widow' only wanted boys who were in her younger brother's company! They'd be his closest friends in the regiment! They'd surely most likely be with her brother when he was wounded badly enough to be hospitalized, much less to need morphine, to begin with!''

''Jemmy,'' Coop started to say, trying to ease his cousin's angry remorse.

''No, no, Cooper! I took lead agent on this case.'' Jemmy shook his head and went on, angrily pacing while he fumed.

'' I insisted on taking lead, because it was clear to me almost from the start that it was boys from Jess' old regiment who were the targets of these murderers! And I went through all the regimental records from the 8th Texas we could find. And I put together the most danged methodical search for those veterans imaginable!''

''Jemmy,'' Mac, Jeremy and Ori tried next to interrupt the doctor-agent's tirade, to no avail.

''No, no, fellows, this is nothing but true! While I got absolutely nowhere with that search, twenty men and women, AND ONE TINY, LITTLE BOY, were murdered! And while I got absolutely nothing resolved in this investigation, MORE THAN A DOZEN OTHER people were brutally attacked!

And in case it's slipped your mind, Cousin, one of that latter group turned out to be you! Not to mention what everyone in this room knows, which is that one of the people they murdered ALSO ALMOST TURNED OUT TO BE YOU! And because I knew Jess wasn't exactly going to be glad to hear from ol' Jemmy, I didn't even write to him to ask his help until nearly three months ago now!''

''JEM! JEMISON, STOP! STOP THIS RANTING, NOW! '' Adam finally thundered at the younger man, straightening to his full height, throwing out his chest and using his best 'King Lear' voice to get his partner's silence and full attention. Stopping in mid stride, Jemmy abruptly looked more like a schoolboy being reprimanded than a full fledged physician,or agent, biting his lower lip and slumping his shoulders.

'' So, that was…I was… kind of _de trop_?'' he asked his glaring partner.

''Just a little bit, around the edges.'' Adam nodded. ''And you're done now, right?''

'' Yeah.'' Jemmy nodded.

''Good, that's good Because I think you were starting to scare the … youngest member of the team, just a bit.'' Adam suggested.

''The youngest, except for Adam, of course.'' Ori added, earning a dark-eyed glare of his own from _his_ mentor.

'' 'm, sorry, Neddy.'' Jemmy muttered, still feeling like an errant schoolchild called on the carpet. ''I shouldn't blow my stack that way. I have a truly rotten temper, some times. ''

'' It ain't nothin', Doctuh Jemmy.'' the youngster told him. '' Figure you've got to be mightily tired out by all this. Figure most ever' body 'cept Solly, Moray, 'berto, mebbee ol' Zeke an' Th' Widow, o' course, is danged tired of all this, b' now. An' I'd be more n' glad to ride on back an' see if I culd help y'all find her now, but m' Daddy … I swore t' him I'd stay clear of Th' Widow, onct I got away.''

''No, you need to keep your promise to your father, Neddy.'' Coop reassured the youngster. '' We'll find Jess, and we'll find your Daddy, too, my word on that.''

''Don't figure you'll be findin' Daddy still above th' ground, though, Coop. Don't figure thet, so y'all don't have to think I'd expect it, now.'' Neddy mourned.

''Well, we'll do the best we can on that score, I promise.'' Mac said.''Now, Neddy, you were telling us that the widow got her hands on the records, the roster from the 8th Texas more than five years ago. Did I understand you on that point?''

''Yes, suh.'' The boy answered.

''And you said she sent for your father, around the same time, around the time your uncle died? And she was making plans then, She wanted him to help her, at that time?'' Mac asked.

'' Yes, suh. But Daddy wasn't goin' to, not a bit, not then. He was still grievin' for m' brothers Drew an' Jeremiah, an' waitin, tryin' all he knew to find out … to know what happened to m' brother Danny. Daddy said he wasn't goin' to take time from seekin' after Daniel Eamon, an' tryin' to keep an eye on… on me… an' tryin' to get his work goin' again. Daddy… he read th' Law, b'fore th' Conflict begun… ''

''And you said you were twelve years old at the time your uncle died?'' Macquillan went on.

''Twelve an' a half, yes, suh. An' thet likely sounds like I was mebbee too young to even get what was bein' talked of. But I did, truly.

An' it was prett much all Aunt 'genie did talk of, from thet time on. An' she was callin' in markers, like, with some older fellas who … served with th' General… thet bein' General Pascale thet she married with. She dint start this up only three years back, no, suh. She started good an' well b'fore thet.''

''Thomas do you hear what this wonderful young man is giving us on a silver tea service platter?'' Adam asked the Bostonian attorney-agent.

'' I do. I hear it loud and clear, and it's exactly the premeditation we didn't think we could begin to prove! And it will make things a lot easier for us, for making our case. And it will make things even harder on him. Neddy, what you have to understand now, is that you'll be called to testify to all of this. You'll be sworn in, and well, in fact, once you take that witness oath, you'll be compelled to tell all of this and whatever more you know of these events, in open court.

That means that some of the men in the Company, and very likely your aunt as well, at some point, will be facing you across a courtroom, as you tell again what you're telling us now. And it won't be just repeating these things either. The attorney or attorneys who come to represent your … former colleagues in the Company will challenge you on every single point. That will be their duty, and what they're paid to do. You've already had a rough time of it, youngster. And what I'm trying to impress upon you now is that it's not about to get any easier, any time soon. ''

''Dint rightly see how it could, Mister Mac.'' the boy nodded. ''We done some purely awful things. An' figure I was actin' like a dumb… like an awfully dumb kid, most th' time, not thinkin' much about … what we done. Figure I got t' do some growin' now. Thet's what Daddy dint … ask, not in so many words. Figure he'd … like it … though.''

''Fathers are actually very contradictory creatures on that subject, Neddy.'' Chris Hale quietly told the youngster, putting one long hand on his shoulder. ''We want our children to grow and thrive and do everything they possibly can… to stand on their own, someday. And we want them to stay young… to stay small enough for us to protect… always. I'd have to imagine though, that your father must be very proud of you, right this minute, no matter what.''

Neddy peered at the Wagonmaster, plainly confused, and shook his head. ''But he's … Daddy's got no way of knowin' … what I might be doin', now. Does he?''

''Not in any way that can be … rationally explained, no.'' Chris agreed. ''It's not a matter of knowing with your mind, son. It's much more a matter of knowing with your heart. And I think you can well understand that, can't you?''

''Yeah… reckon I … I can. Guess y'all have got a mortal lot more questions an' all, have you?' 'the boy asked, shrugging and looking as if he'd like to bolt, or at least drop their heavy talk for a while.

''We do, and we will.'' Mac answered, nodding at the Wagonmaster, both of them on the other side of the coin from the youngster, having lost their sons. ''But right now, I'm a lot more hungry than I am in the mood to ask more questions. What do you say we go across the way and get something to eat, get some supper, Christopher, before the rest of this constantly ravenous crew tries to get there ahead of you and me and Neddy?''

''I'm with you, Thomas, in fact, I'm already there!'' Hale chuckled, and the odd trio, Mac, Neddy and the Wagonmaster strode out of the rented rooms, a good half minute before their younger colleagues even caught on.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER TEN Lodge at Widow's Retreat compound,

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

He was waking up again. Or, he thought he could be, mebbee. He might still be dreaming this, all of it. In a minute, it could be he'd take the chance to open his eyes the width of chinks in a cabin wall, to check out that thought, just to find out if it was anything like real. Thinking was a slippery, tricky operation, though, leaving him to feel pretty much the fool, more often than not, just lately. _Just lately? _Now there all by it's lonesome was a danged risky proposition, as he had no idea whatever how long he'd gone between this 'just lately and the one before it. He had just about no ideas whatever, far as he could tell, just now.

He was still plumb exhausted, truth to tell, as if he'd run or ridden, marched or climbed a few score, or a few hundred miles, sometime recent. He couldn't think when he would have done any of those things, which was just another measure of how danged wearied out he felt, now. He couldn't think very well at all, it seemed, his head and more than that, his brain seemed full of cobwebs and cotton wool. He couldn't even do much towards pushing one thought up against another to make any sense of either. He couldn't recall when much of anything around him made much sense at all.

Some bitter kind of quarrel, some angry kind of wrangle or other was going on here, wherever in the devil here was. But that scrap, though still carrying on, was at an odd distance from him, it's sounds and it's sights coming only muffled and muddled to him, now, whenever in blue blazes now might be. It seemed as though that skirmish, that fire-fight or whatever it was might've been at closer range, the last time he was aware of it, or aware of anything a bit. It seemed like he might've had a part in that scuffle, or some part of it might've had to do with him… whoever in Perdition he was.

_Whoa! Hold it, there! _The wearied, wary, wide-awake part of his mind demanded _Just what d'y' mean whoever… Dang! You don't'… I don't know who I am? Okay, that can't be good! _

_Now, just hold it! Hold off on that a second, calm down, boy, don't panic… _

_Y' only just now woke up, after all… Mi' mebbee you took a bonk t' th' head y' can't exactly recollect, either. Yeah, that seems likely, th' way yer head startin' in t' pound again. Again? Again? Ye're recallin' somethin', even if it's the danged clamourin' pain in your danged hard head! When th' devil was th' last time, then? All right, all right, y' don' know when, but at least y' know there was a last time! _

His neck and head throbbed in fact, now as though somebody took a poleax to them, or else he'd taken them up against another danged stonewall. His ribs and back were as sore as though he'd taken a real good licking from an expert boxer, or maybe, what seemed more likely, been thrown a few too many times by some unruly colt or steer, the kind who always seemed to think the fella on his back was the one meant to get 'broken'.

His arms ached as if he'd toted enough hay, pulled enough fence wire onto enough posts, swept out enough stalls, or chopped enough wood for a month of Sundays. _Another stonewall? All right, where was th' one y' took a run at last? He tried asking himself, but got no answer. An' why does it sound more likely y'd get thrown by some ornery colt or bull-calf, then take yer licks in a ring? An' for that matter, when were y' workin' at those kind of chores? _

_Like I've said a few thousand times by now, Pard, I didn't see any barbed wire fences around that section at the time. As far as I knew, it was still just open territory. And I never like to see open range fenced in, figure I start to feel fenced in myself. There's still too much of the Big Open in me, reckon. _

The amnesiac recalled himself saying, knowing it was a fair statement about him, knowing his own voice, if not his own name, just now. But on top of not knowing his name, he had no idea when he'd said it, what nor where was big or open, or who he'd labeled 'Pard'. A sunlit yard, a battered, weather-beaten barn, and a broad shouldered, muscular framed, tall fellow with his face somehow in shadow, were all he could seem to see in that possible, hoped for memory.

And his pounding head and throbbing neck only hurt a lot worse when he reached for those details, sending them slipping out of his fingers like a silvery, slippery trout, sliding back into a stream, because he had no hook, no line, not even a danged net to keep hold with now! On the other hand, he didn't have to run, or fight, he didn't need to wrangle, or even quarrel, not anymore, now. He didn't have to settle on, settle up, calm down or even ride it out, an' get 'er done. He'd left all that behind, but just where, he couldn't say now, not for certain sure.

He'd somehow just lain back and let go all those things, all those quarrels, and all those choices that seemed not worth worrying about, anymore. Somebody else would just have to pick them up and carry them on now. He didn't know and couldn't raise the energy to summon up now, how long he'd lain here, warmly tangled head to foot, his whole frame and mind and spirit gently caught up in cotton wool or cotton batting.

And he couldn't bring himself to fret over that a whole lot now, either.

It was too agreeable, too hassle-free and soothing for thinking, for wondering, for figuring, for any ideas, surely here, wherever in the devil here might be. Wherever that might be, it was too trouble-free for worrying, pondering, or even guessing why he came to be here, much less when or how. And best, he considered, as close as he came to any kind of consideration, lately, _here_ was far too far off from any and all the pain he felt certain sure he'd left behind now, to call to mind where he might have left it. It seemed as though, at long last, a sliver of a tad bit of a memory whispered, he might've won free.

It was more what wasn't here than what was that had him just barely wondering if it could be real at all. He wasn't wandering in his wits, _he hoped_ _to G-d_, in the way something in his gut said he might have been, the way he knew he'd sometimes been before, when a fever wracked him inside out, or a nightmare-fancy caught him fast! He wasn't hurting stem to stern the way he seemed to almost recollect everything on and around him smarting. He wasn't shuddering from cold that blasted through him like an avalanche and then froze solid in his bones the way he felt the echoes of, still. He wasn't shaking as if he'd suddenly got palsy or gone wandering in an ice storm, or a blizzard, with roiling, desperately icy fear sinking to his core.

He wasn't afraid a bit, here. Not while the warm veiling of softness held him. He wasn't even sure why he'd been so awfully afraid, but another splinter, another shard of recollection told him he'd been in deathly fear of … something or someone, and rightly so. He wasn't cold at all. And without any notion whatever of where he was, a gentle, ghostly whispering in the back of his stuttering thoughts kept telling him to believe that meant he was safe here, too. He was somehow within a circle of kindly, sheltering protection, here and now, as soft as bird's wings, as strong as a powerfully embracing pair of arms. If he kept close within that shelter, if he only held tight to that shielding, it could, it would, it fervently promised, keep his half remembered pain, his weakness against the pain and cold and his suffocating fear at bay.

But what was he afraid of then, besides what seemed an endless, hopeless freezing trek in a blizzard-choked landscape he couldn't entirely see? What left him weaker than a new birthed foal, shaking like an old, old man, and twice as dizzy, besides a constant whorl of sounds somewhere out around and above him that made no sense to him, then or now?

What brought on the pain he was beginning to recall better than he'd ever want, besides a strange stiffness in his arms and chest, that left him hardly able to move them, a thunderous ringing in his head every time he even thought to move it or thought a bit, and numbness in his legs and feet that brought another, newer fear with it, fear that he'd never stand or walk on those limbs again! What shook him like a willow in a windstorm, besides a nagging, gnawing, drive in his gut towards panicking like a two year old colt spooked by a rattler on the trail that said he wasn't all that close to bein' in his right mind, after all!

_All right, so now I am some afraid,_ he finally admitted to himself. _But that's just … that's likely t' be because I'm no more n' half awake, just yet, an' I … can't rightly tell what place this is An' some of it's likely t' be 'cause I can't rightly say how I came here… Can't quite figure what's goin' on, just now… That's not … so danged surprisin'… is it, now?_

_Fella wakes up someplace he don' seem t' know … some how he don't recall… An' it can't help much, can it, fella wakes up thinkin' he's not certain sure… not just certain sure where he might've been b'fore, just when that b'fore might've been, or Bad enough, sure, that yer eyes can't seem t' focus …y' can't seem t' see much past what looks t' be a mortal lot of cotton gauze hung up around here like curtains! _

_Bad enough y' can't seem t' hear much more n' sounds that could be voices, or waterfalls, or thunder… an' all that a couple miles off or more! Bad enough y've gone an' started in shiverin' an' shakin' like y've got some danged fever… Bad enough y' try pickin' your head up an' it tries spinnin' purely off yer shoulders for you! An' that's nothin' to how bad y' just got yer gut t' roilin twice as hard! _

_But dang it! it don't help any of that a bit, it don't but make things worse than they were already, when a fella wakes up not knowin' what kinda trouble he's in. _He triedinsisting, now. _You can't forget who you are, or what's your own handle for th' love o' G-d! That only happens in storybooks or in those penny dreadfuls! You're getting' all worked up for no good reason here! You… just … stop your runnin' around in circles in your head an' it'll come t' you, surely! Folks don't up an' forget who they are, that's crazy-talk, boy! _

Now the blasting, freezing, near onto burning cold he'd half recalled took hold again, hurtling down like an avalanche all around him! Suddenly, the roaring pain in his neck, his back, in his chest and his arms was back, full force. But most of all, worst of all that pain was stampeding back inside his skull again, at the back and to one side as if something had all but crushed, all but cracked it open, and was looking to split it nearly in half along those same fracture lines, again!

All at once, the roiling sickness in his gut was worse than ever, spinning him like a top, right towards the edge of a miles deep river-cut arroyo of absolute darkness! And all these were only the signal lights coming ahead of the worst fear he believed he could have ever known. Because all of these troubles were no more than the tell-tales that he was losing his senses! Abruptly, the amnesiac realized the only thing he could recall with any clarity was talking to someone kind, someone as affectionately gentle and good and wise as the day was long about just this fear, exactly!

Out of nowhere, still without any idea when or where, he remembered admitting exactly this dread, this awful sense of losing his wits, moment-to-moment, as it gnawed away the only mooring he still had. He'd been telling that forgotten much loved and deeply trusted someone in some equally lost, cherished, safe place somewhere how he'd become consumed, how he'd become sleeplessly, inescapably afraid he was losing his mind, entirely.

He could almost, across the whorl of panic storming through him now, hear

a voice, it seemed likely was his own, slowly, reluctantly revealing what felt to be a long-lived nightmare. Scraps and pieces of what might be a remembered talk he could have had were making their way, piecemeal to him. And even these he wasn't sure he could, wasn't sure he wanted to get hold of.

''_bollixed-up, thrown… bandy-leg calf… bawlin… t' raise th' roof… started … after… after… that's how … that's how… I can tell… how I … know… 'm just plain… goin' around th' bend… goin' purely… crazed!'' _he was telling someone he couldn't see or touch or name from where he lay shaking and shuddering now.

He was still deathly afraid of that, right this minute, in fact. And the chill sliding up and down his spine, just put an 'added flourish' to that fear. Suddenly this fear grew by leaps and bounds, until it nearly choked him. As weary, as wary as he was of trying to corral one thought with another, two ideas ran smack into each other in his head. His sense that his arms felt all but trussed up against the aching muscles of his chest careened headlong into the notion that he'd been afraid of losing his mind.

All of a sudden he was very much afraid of bending his neck far enough to see if he could push those two fractious notions into separate stalls, at least, for now. But there was nothing for it, the sheer scope of his premonition told him he had to look. His mouth felt as if it were lined with cotton and dry to the point he could hardly swallow. Swallowing hard on the dryness and the, cold, coppery taste of his fear, he bent his neck against what felt like the stiffest starched collar he could ever imagine. Swallowing again, he made his eyes open a tad bit wider. Shuddering, he ordered his aching head to let his weary mind see what was there to see. And in the next instant, he wished heartily he'd not done any of those things.

The high, standing, stiff collar around his neck was made of the same heavy woven, washed out denim or sailcloth as the rest of the 'garment' that reached from chin to waist on him. The sleeves fell far past his hands, as if made to fit a much longer limbed person. They weren't, instead he could feel , more than he could see, as he looked down, how they were made to force his arms tightly across his protesting ribs, binding them to his sides, tying them against his back! He was bound up in a straitjacket, and had no idea, no memory and no good feeling at all about how he got that way!

The fear he thought he'd swallowed came riding back now at a gallop. He was alone, bound, and pretty much helpless in a place he didn't know. He wasn't seeing, hearing or thinking clearly. And the pain in his head and neck and sides was clamoring to take him over again. In fact, it was coming up a real strong second in a race with absolute, pure panic now. The only thing he could find to be easy about, without knowing how, was wherever this place might be it wasn't close or narrow. That would have made things a whole lot worse a whisper in some back corner of his mind was saying. It wasn't saying why.

And that whisper was already in an argument with another part of his weary, wary mind, now. The opposing view seemed to be that folks didn't get trussed up like this because they'd done anything the least bit good, or anything they could be easy about, at all. And the rock solid fact that he had no memory wasn't helping his losing battle for calm reflection, not just now. It only threw more fuel on that particular fire, in fact. Folks, his pro-panic argument insisted, weren't gonna lose their whole, entire memory when they had something real fine to remember. No, more like, it was when they had a whole lot to forget!

'' Yes, let's make certain this part goes succinctly, but fully into the transcript, shall we? It certainly lends weight to the argument being made here, doesn't it?'' A man's deep, rich, icy voice said somewhere above his head now. And he'd heard that voice more times before now than he wanted to recollect… he thought. So he tried his hardest to turn in that direction. He tried, but only fell back where he'd been, onto what looked and felt to be some kind of cot, pushed against a rough-plastered, blank grey wall on his left.' 'The accused's paternal grandmother, yes, rather a bit more searching and seeking after was required in her regard, in this case. '' the chilling voice went on.

'' The woman was known by a rather fanciful name, one that gave no little difficulty substantiating or tracing to its genuine origins. The paternal grandmother of the present defendant, as I was saying, called herself Mirielle Anastaise Meraud Clement… Harper. Well, I suppose we can grant that last. There does seem to be a record of bans being announced and a date noted in the monsignor's registry as well as that of the parish itself for the ceremony being held. And there did, at one point seem to be record of her being born or at any rate, christened, in St. Bernard's Parish. So that seems to have been true enough, as far as we've been able to discern, at the least, to date.

Her father's family, that branch of the Clements, we learned, fled Paris during the Terror, the darkest days of the so-called Revolution there, to settle in New Orleans. So it may be they were, in truth, as we used to say 'aristos'. Or they may have simply been associated in some dangerous way, or may have been in service to some of the tragically doomed nobles of Marie Antoinette's court. But with her mother's people, genuine ambiguity exists. They seem to have gone by various surnames, in various places, as time went on, many of apparently French origin, induding Brousseau, Beaufort, Bontecou, Beauvais, Beauchamp, And this may shock or amuse at least one of our cohorts, when he hears it, either Bodine or _Boudin._

What cannot be questioned are their origins amongst the … servant classes in the French West Indies, to put it as civilly as possible. In both cases, it seems far more than likely the woman's… the paternal grandmother's origins were of the _demi-monde. _Of course, her social status, in and of itself does not constitute anything resembling a basis for the present proceedings.

No, what bears on the matter at hand is the question of Mirielle Clement's… Mirielle Harper's known mental status, as regards her progeny … and in this case, most particularly, as it affects the oldest male offspring of her oldest son. The records of her later years were uncovered only recently, from a convent-run hospital in Mon'real.

By dint of a thoroughgoing effort, I would add, on my part. In short, those records indicate she suffered what is generally, compassionately known as a nervous collapse, following the lingering illness and demise of her spouse, the present subject's paternal grandfather, Elias Alexandre Harper, of that city. In short, the woman went mad. But more to the point, those same records show this sad event occurred at that point for the third time in her adult years, and that during all those occurrences, the woman was reported to have been considered a danger to herself and to those closest to her, as well.

And in the end, although that was not stated, for the obvious, religious reason, she very likely took her own life. Of course it can always be hoped that the offspring of such a beleaguered spirit will find themselves completely free from such … suffering. And it is more often than not the case that such families escape any repetition of such afflictions. The argument we make here in this instance, however, and the evidence we bring to support it, is quite simply, that in the case of that unfortunate woman's eldest grandson, the subject in these proceedings, no such escape was possible and none was made.

The evidence we bring, and the case we make here is, in brief that this grandson of Mirielle … Harper's has, on at least two known occassions exhibited much the same burden of tragically violent instability in the extreme. What seems most difficult to comprehend, I must admit, for the record, is that the ill-fated subject in these proceedings was neither confined nor treated for this manifestly inherited incapacity, when it was first, and so dreadfully, exhibited.''

The man on the cot knew his own eyes were wide open now. He was able to see the end of the cot, and the pacing form of a big, unfamiliar man, some yards past it. In fact, he was frankly staring at this figure, who was dressed like a high-class eastern gent in a dark suit with an unfamiliar, long cut to it wasn't the man's clothes, or the fact that the amnesiac could clearly hear his chilling voice that made the cold seem to take a harder, harsher grip now.

It was the ways this fancy 'gent' seemed to stop pacing every few minutes and focus his icy grey eyes on the man watching him. And it was the way this stranger's flashy 'five-dollar vocabulary', and his meaning all seemed to focus on the man lying there as well. The man on the cot studied this tall, dandyish fellow closely and then sighed. Despite this stranger's bitter voice and manner, he'd hoped to recognize his face. He didn't.

So why does this fella keep lookin' over at me as if he knows me, and doesn't want to? An' why does he go rantin' on an' on about somebody … who … whose grandmother… went off her beam more n' once, somebody who… mi' mebbee have followed her on off… himself… more n' once? An' why 'm I layin' here, bound up like a bird either ready for th' oven, or th' spit, wonderin' what has me forgettin' everything but th' notion I could be goin' around th' bend? The more that gent keeps talkin' and keeps lookin' my direction, the less I'd say there's a good answer for that! An' that can't be good, can it? 'm not sure there's any 'could be goin' on here, now!

''Nope. I'm not so danged sure there's any could be to that notion, not any at all!'' he muttered, almost without realizing he'd grated the words out as close as he could come to talkin' aloud, just now. And that was bad, because it brought the tall man's icy gaze straight to him, along with a chilling half smile, half scowling sneer.

''Ah, apparently he's conscious once more. We can proceed.'' the gent said, but not to the man on the cot. ''Gentlemen, if you will get him back into position, we'll proceed.'' the gent went on, talking almost as if the man on the cot wasn't wholly there. At that order, two tall, burly, dark featured fellows who said nothing at all to him, hefted and shifted the amnesiac so that he was sitting up, against a headboard and a stack of lumpy, worn out pillows. His chest and his arms protested, likewise. A long, high-ceilinged room whirled about him and his head spun and ached like fire with this out of this movement. 'His legs seemed to be stayin entirely out of the argument' for now, he very much hoped.

'' Are you able to hear me?'' the cold voiced gent asked, more loudly and then moved closer. The speaker now strode into the amnesiac's still muddled line of sight. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with thick, black hair, well-bred features and piercing grey eyes as cold as his voice. ''I said, do you hear me?''

''Y-yeah.'' the man on the cot answered, and left it that, thinking the gent wanted more of an answer, and wasn't going to get it, not if he could help it.

''Aren't you going to add something to that response?'' the gent demanded, worrying the man on the cot yet more with the notion he could read his mind. ''Aren't you about to claim, once again that you don't know where you are or why or who I may be?''

''I'm not claimin' anything, mister. I don't know who th' devil you are.'' the man, still bound on the cot shot back, covering his shuddering fear of this stranger with some heat of his own making now. ''No more n' I know how I got here, or why I should be trussed up this way. So suppose you answer those questions for me, and mi' mebbee I'll feel more friendly-like.''

''It is not required, in fact it would be significantly counter indicated for there to be any relationship remotely resembling a friendship between us.'' the man standing noted, his eyes as hard as iron. '' I believe it would be considered a substantial conflict of interest, in fact, if there were. I know it would be, as a matter of fact.I read the Law for years, you see and am fully conversant with all such legalities, which is surely why I hold my present position. Nor am I required to answer questions here. That obligation falls to you, and in this particular case, only to you, in fact.''

''An' I'm guessin' my ribs didn't get as sore as they are by you just politely askin' your danged questions, did they? So, why should I just give over anything, includin' answers t' you?'' the amnesiac challenged.

''Because, young sir, upon your answers here will depend your fate, not mine. That is what is being decided here. But now, I don't doubt for an instant, you're going to tell me you don't know what the matter at hand might be, aren't you?''

_My fate? What kind of_ _claptrap is he talkin'? This ain't a story in a danged penny-dreadful, or a travelin' melodrama! An' he ain't any sort of a preacher, either, to be talkin' that way! What kind of game is he playin'? Damn, if I could just get up, I'd wipe that icy smirk off his face! He wants me scared, I don't have to remember a danged thing to see that plain! Well, I'm damn good n' scared right this minute now, mister. But there's no way in Perdition you're gonna find that out from me! _

''Wait, now you are about to begin explaining once again, that you have no knowledge and no recollection of your own identity, or your past, or anything whatever of any of our previous…encounters and discussions

on these matters. And we are supposed to believe you have once more magically managed to lose your memory of hours upon hours of our conversations? You intend us to accept that you've lapsed into the not very surprising, very convenient amnesiac condition you've so far relied on for your pathetic defense here?'' The black haired man asked, but gave the other no time to answer.

'' I'm afraid you've used that ploy quite a few too many times by now. No one here, including those whose judgments you will face, will accept any such transparent excuses from you, not any longer. It would be far better for you, in some ways, and for our proceedings if you would simply give that tactic up, once and for all. It would serve you far better, at least to my way of thinking, if you would simply agree to and state the truth of the matter.''

''If I knew what truth you meant, why th' devil wouldn't I just say it?'' the man on the cot, feeling more and more like the defendant on trial for criminal charges demanded. He wasn't about to tell this strange gent a danged thing, if he could help it, not what little he seemed to know, which the stranger seemed too well aware of, anyhow.

He surely wasn't going to let on that the more the fancy dressed fellow ranted on, the more his head spun and ached, the more in fact, his whole frame was beginning to shudder and ring with pain and desperate fear both which seemed to be on a return trip he had no desire to be making.

'' That's an intriguing question. And even though, as I already noted for the record, I have no obligation to answer you. But as you're showing a bit more verve, a bit more of a spark just now, I will respond. It's quite simple really. You may be reluctant for very same reasons we are proceeding here.

And we are here, as we have been while these proceedings either dragged on, or were unavoidably postponed or inexcusably delayed, to determine whether the truth of this matter, once delineated and properly adjudicated, will either see you executed, or imprisoned as being criminally liable, or finally, legally committed, as being hopelessly, violently, and dangerously insane, for the term of your natural life.''

The amnesiac could feel his jaw that had been stubbornly jutting, drop, and his eyes that had narrowed to frowning chinks widen now. He'd admitted to himself he was scared, a minute ago. Now he was terrified. He was shaking before, now he was shuddering, almost seizing with the force of these bitter words. _Those were his choices, just those three?_ His voice died in his throat, which was suddenly as dry as his mouth had been all this while. He knew he would have been backing up against the headboard, if he'd only been able to get his whole frame to stop shivering.

He knew he would have been rushing this icy eyed, cold faced so and so on his way out the door, if he could just get his legs under him, in something like cooperation with the rest of his frame! But he still didn't know why he should be in trouble this far, this deep. And he had to ask, no matter how raw his throat seemed to be, now, almost as if he'd been screaming, cussing and screeching at the stranger for hours!

Shaking his head, despite the way it ached, since the rest of him was shaking anyhow, he stared at the man who seemed to be standing over him, now. And finally, with all the strength he could muster he pushed the questions he had to have answered out into the air around him, in a ragged, shocked, painful rasp.

'' What? Why? Why in th' very devil… I don't kn-know… I … I … c-can't… remember. I … can't! So you… you have … t' t-t-tell me… You've got t' tell me… Wh-why? Who am I? Why am I here, now? Wh-what'd… What did I do?''

''You can stop claiming not to know, not to recall it now. I'll state the facts of the matter in brief, once more and only once, for the record: It's really quite simple in this case, and quite indisputable, as well, you see: '' The icy stranger calmly answered, sounding and looking almost amused.

'' Just as you always knew you would, at any new opportunity, you destroyed all you ever claimed to love and cherish. Ah, yes, shake your head, mouth your denials now. Ah, yes, of course you wish to disbelieve the core truths of the matter, still. You'd like to erase your ruined, ruinous past, wouldn't you, my man? And the pity is, the genuine pity is, you might have done so.

You might have lived your life out long and full and kept all your demons well at bay. Except where such irrefutable lunacy as yours is present, you should have known that could never be. You have always known your doom was inescapable, haven't you, Harper? You have known from the first, or at least from your first, profoundly tragic arson, that you are a dangerously capricious pyromaniac. You have always been aware of the ancestral madness lying dormant within you, Harper, isn't that also so?

You've always feared and for the most part, avoided close friendships or quasi-familial ties. And you were all too right to do so, as has now been proven without one scintilla of one single shadow of one doubt! When it first happened, when you were hardly more than a child, one might have shaken their head and accepted the matter as the vagaries of evil chance coming into play. One might have believed some temporary aberration led a boy not yet eleven years of age to destroy his much loved family and their little home. And the records indicate that there were many people then, absolutely prone to accept the random, rapacious wickedness of others for what happened there.

After all, who would believe the murderous fire at your parent's small home in northwest Texas could be the work of their only surviving child? After all, who would ever think a boy so young and so affectionate by nature harbored so dark and ruinous a spirit? So, naturally enough no one of the adults who heard your horrific story ever conceived it was all a damnable pack of lies, did they, Harper?

No, as a bereft, an orphaned child they took you to their hearts and to their homes, and sought to comfort your fears. And as an embittered youth, they still welcomed you and looked for their lost loves in your person, never once seeing the ravening madness there. And as a man they still believed your poignant, nightmare-tales of wildly destructive raiders, all of whom still have, mysteriously enough, escaped prosecution.

But as a man, if that's what we are to call you now, you finally succumbed to your oldest demons, didn't you, Harper? Didn't you, at long last set your hand against those who accepted and even loved you? Didn't you, after nearly five and twenty years, lose your mind again and repeat your original, deadly arson? Once more you gulled a band of open-hearted, kindly, blameless souls. Once more with unerring guile, you wove your old, sad stories for them. Once more they saw you only as the beleaguered victim of the world's ancient, callous wickedness.

In short, you took them in and they took you in, my fine, young lunatic. They trusted you. They cared for you. And once more, you turned on them, despite all that, with all violence of your deranged spirit. Once more, you destroyed a home, a world, a dream that was never yours to begin with. Once more you left your horrific signature, written in another killing fire!

These innocent, compassionate people made you part of their lives, and were repaid with death, with destruction they could never possibly have guessed at. They could never have imagined the profundity of your madness, could they? No, as I said already, they were too innocent for that, were they not? And if you are finally come to the Bar of Everlasting Justice, it is only because someone realized your deranged, demented and terribly dangerous state, at long last. That is why you are here, now, and that is what you will answer for, now.

He couldn't breathe. The chilling voice, the hard words, the icy gaze coming from the man accusing him combined to pull the air out of his lungs, out of his chest, out of the whole damned room once more spinning around him! He couldn't think. The unforgiving notions, the horrific images they shaped in his mind and before his bewildered, terrified gaze stole his last spec of reason, his last scrap of understanding from him.

He couldn't move. The nightmare handed him as fact, as memory now, had stopped his shuddering like an iron vise gripping his back, his neck, his shoulders and his splitting head. He fell into a darkened, icy prison the voice, the words, the eyes and the nightmare all formed around him. He couldn't so much cry out. He had no wish to, now. His only wish was to die somewhere here in this farthest level of Perdition.

And that wish was as hopeless as all the others he'd ever had, he knew. Damnation was eternal, and in his case, only rightly so. It had been Written, at the Foundation, after all. This had always been his fate, his doom. That he'd done the worst thing he could ever imagine was purely, terribly preordained. That he'd been mad while he did them was no matter, then or now, or ever. There'd never been another way, a different path, a better, safer end for him, much less a happier one than this Eternal Justice and Judgment. This was what had to happen .


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER ELEVEN Widow's Retreat, outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming, the 1870

''Stop this! YOU WILL STOP THIS NOW! Do you hear? You will immediately put a stop to these appalling proceedings! I say you must, and you will stop this, and at once, sir!'' A warm, clear compassionate, strong, and passionate voice called out now, somewhere far above him, It was commanding, and almost compelling enough to break his fall, if anything could have.

The bound, helpless, despairing 'accused' knew this voice, but in a different, calmer form. It had been there, sometime ages past… he guessed, he wondered how or when. It had been there, enfolding, embracing him… holding him warm and safe a brief, impossible to keep spell… before … It gently, kindly carried all the warmth and ease, safety and strength he'd lacked, seemingly always, and carried him too, for a little, little while.

He couldn't keep on there, couldn't hold to it. He was found, found out, and cast out again, now. He didn't belong within its sheltering wings. He had no claim, and no right whatever to it's softly shining peace and mercy. He'd rest, now, mebbee, for the smallest scrap of a second in its kindheartedness and caring… just for one more tad bit of a minute… mebbee… he could … let himself just lay there, shaking and … helpless to stop it, sobbing with bitter shame and fear, and not a little relief to be within her shelter again.

''I was doing what I took to be my sworn duty here to be, ma'am.'' the chill voice answered, terrifying the doomed man all over again with its icy resentment.''The accused here, this subject, if you prefer, displayed a level of conscious comprehension of these proceedings, which he has rarely shown to date. I therefore thought it only fitting to say the very least, that he should be properly advised of the matter. We have suffered through so many delays already, ma'am, waiting for just such an opening to present itself…''

''Yes, so you have indeed, sir!'' the woman responded, pulling the exhausted, wretchedly sobbing boy into her arms. ''Don't you see how ill he truly is? Don't you comprehend how deeply, how painfully … he's broken? Now, you've well and truly put him through this torture.

And it is going to have to be enough for you to do … whatever further folly you have it in mind, to do, sir, without putting him through any more!'' Pascale insisted. She was darkly frowning at her current Second now, seeming to that 'prosecutor' to be more than a little lost herself in the delusions they'd spent no little time conjuring for 'the boy'.

''''I am required to inform the accused of the indictments brought against him, when he displays the capacity to comprehend them. As an Officer of the Court, I am, of course, required to follow all the essentials and implement all the conventions of due process here.''

''But clearly, at present, as for some time previous, and likely for some time to come, as I have over and over again clearly indicated, this, _exactly this_ is more than he can bear. Even you must be able to see that plainly, in the consequences of your properly apprising him of matters he cannot in truth or in fairness begin to grasp! He's still far too ill for your so-called indictments and your bizarre notions of applying due process in this instance!

We are, well, I at least, am seeking to help the lad, to ease his distressed state, and his forlorn condition, to comfort , to offer what healing, what solace there may be in such an instance!

You, on the other hand seem to have become determined cruelly to abase, pointlessly to admonish and I suspect, to further callously abuse him! And that, my dear, dear sir, I cannot help but note you have only had the temerity to attempt when I have been unavoidably called elsewhere! And that, my dear, dear 'master prosecutor', I am now bringing to a complete and an utter halt!''

'' Just as you say, Counselor.'' The 'prosecutor', Heydon Palmerston Moray answered Pascale, bowing with no little mockery in his voice and frame and gestures.

''Yes, you have that correct, Sir. It is as I say, and so it shall remain. You shall not return to this matter with the boy! Clearly I should not have allowed myself even a moment away from your vicious interrogation! Clearly I have given too much leeway to … a great many people. Clearly you do not, you cannot or you simply will not comprehend this is in truth only a sad, sick, half destroyed boy at this point!

I will call upon your services, again, _as and when_ I find I have need of them. Until such a time, you will leave and you will not return to these rooms. Well, what are you standing there waiting for? You have our leave to go. Well, then go! Leave us!'' Pascale demanded, and sat staring at Moray, rather regally he thought, despite becoming unequivocally more insane all the time.

''Just as you wish, Your Serene Majesty.'' Moray answered, bowed once more and retreated like a true courtier, never once turning his face from The Widow as he backed out of the room.

'' Well, I am _neither _serene nor _particularly _majestic, just at the moment, am I?'' Pascale asked the 'boy' she held where he'd collapsed, back onto his bed.

''Nevertheless, I have dispensed with our 'Master Prosecutor's' services. And he is far, far too ambitious to countermand my orders at this late stage of … affairs. But he's become far, far too rancorous by half, I must say. And I'm sure when you've recovered at least somewhat, my boy, you'll agree.

Yes, I do think our 'prosecutor' has ascended as far as I'm sanguine about allowing him to do. And he's not going to come back in here, I avow you, my boy. No, our Heydon Palmerston has taken a great many liberties and a great many things too far, and much too swiftly. Now, I must needs repair the worst of his damage. Ah, me! Such duties always do seem to fall to your beloved guardian, don't they? And just imagine, Heydon Palmerston thinks I'm the one who's losing their mind!''

''H-H-He s-s-said … 'm… c-c-c-crazed…'' the 'half destroyed boy' on the cot beside her mournfully whispered, shaking all over, still terrorized by the bitter nightmare distortions of what he no longer realized were his own worst memories. ''He s-said… I k-ki-kil-killed…I … s-se-set… ki-kil-killin' f-fi- fires!

Please, please, y've got to tell me… Please, did I … did …kill He says 'm … t' be l-locked up… kept li-like this… or … ev-even… hung…. 'most wish … 'most wish … he … had … d-done! ''

'' But how very cruel! And how uncalled for! How very monstrous of him!' she exclaimed, pulling him back into her warmth and shelter again. '' You mustn't believe anything of the kind! You simply mustn't. Nothing like that is going to happen to you. I've already promised I won't allow anything of the kind! And as for what he charges … my lad, having become so much better acquainted with you of late, I am sure you are _incapable_ of anything resembling such acts! I'm absolutely positive of that. Please, please, believe me, now. Ah, but why should you, when you've been so mistreated?''

He couldn't entirely feel her hands, but something was loosening around him, the crushing, terrifying tightness was easing now. He could breathe better, more freely, if not very deeply, now. And what was even more comforting, he could still hear her voice, still see her shining grey eyes.

'' I am clearly, terribly at fault here, and I do beg your pardon, my boy! I meant only to leave you for one quarter, or half of an hour. I meant only to go to my greenhouse for something to ease that wretched cough you've had.

And I was delayed, sidetracked, it now seems deliberately so, by persons asking me all sorts of unimportant, immaterial questions. But truly, I am to blame for this terrible session you've just endured, my lad.I thought our Master Prosecutor knew, I believed he understood, I meant him only to come here when I called upon him, and when I was therefore, present, myself!''

''B-but… n-n-now… du-dunno… 'm thinkin'… me-mebbee… I … d-done those th-things … he said… Why'd I be so… bol-bollixed up, oth-otherwise?'' her 'charge' asked.

'' Well, I'm not entirely sure of your meaning in just that instance… Do you mean to say … bewildered?'' she asked, smiling as bright as daylight, easing him still more.

''Ye-yeah.'' he just barely nodded, hoping not to bring the driving pain back again, yet. Her strength and warmth seemed to be holding the pain back again. But for how long, and should he allow himself any reprieve? The bitterly angry 'prosecutor' seemed so sure of his nightmare charges.

''Well that I can answer, as I have in the past, and of course part of the dilemma here is the ill effect all this trouble has had on your memory. You've been injured, and rather badly. The doctor who's come most often to see you here, has advised me you suffered a series of blows to your head, and from his own particular studies, in those areas where the memory may easily take some harm, and thereafter take some time in recovering fully. '' She told him, still warmly smiling, still staying close.

''That would account for a great deal of your bewilderment. So please try to be reassured. I've seen nothing in your manner or bearing to indicate violent derangement or actions. I've heard nothing in your conscious speech or your fever dreams that suggests a capacity for harming innocent others. I've noted nothing in your features, your eyes or your expression that signifies dementia. And I've been a long time observer of human nature, my young sir, so I do believe myself to be a fair judge of a man's character. In short, no, I do not believe you to be mentally or emotionally imbalanced to any degree whatever.

Rather, I am persuaded that you are simply recovering more slowly than you might wish, from the ordeals that left you almost like a Prodigal at my gates. Please try to accept that as the far more likely truth of the matter. You are ill, certainly. But not hopelessly so. You are exhausted, for the most part, and that, too, is a transient matter. You are at sometimes more confused than at others, yes.

But again, that has to do with the injuries you are in fact recovering from. And being a young man, I do not doubt it is all the more difficult for you to have patience with your own convalescence. '' She said and turned her face from him, seeming to look over her shoulder, and the man on the cot sighed, wondering if she'd ever look back again.

Squinting up at her, it now seemed to him that she was listening for something or someone he couldn't see or hear on the other side of all the gossamer still around him. Was that terrifyingly angry 'prosecutor' coming back already? Was he coming back to finally make good his threats? Was he going to dispute with or even try to harm the lady who'd returned to comfort and to guard him? What could the man he'd all but destroyed before do against him? What wouldn't he try to do, to protect the lady beside him?

''I won'.. I swear… I won' let him… to-touch y'!'' he whispered fiercely, tugging at her sleeve like a schoolboy.

Smiling, she turned back and shook her head as if pleasantly amazed by his outburst. '' And that is what I would be so glad to swear to you in return, my lad, if you would believe me. I've made such horrible choices! I've done such dreadful deeds! And I've placed my trust in precisely the worst possible persons of late! And in doing so, I've caused more harm than I shall ever be able to make amends for. But somehow, I've gained your trust, and that greatly cheers me, I assure you. I'll try to deserve it, as far as I'm able, I promise you that much. ''

''I b'lieve you, I do… abso…. entirely!'' he promised. ''Why wouldn't I? I … I … think … you're just about… perfect.''

Shaking her head so that her silvery blonde curls danced about her face, the woman beside him chuckled warmly. But he didn't care, she wasn't laughing to hurt him. She'd never hurt him, he knew at least that much, certain sure, now.

''My dear, I am so very far from perfection I cannot begin to tell you… Nor would I ever wish to, truly. And I am not going to let your evident flattery distract me further from what you need now. You are in obvious, sad need of your medication. Please, do not dissemble, my lad, you are experiencing tremendous pain again now, are you not?''

'' It… it's comin' back on me… '' He nodded. ''Druther not have th' … med'cine, though.''

'' And I understand that, surely. I am well aware of the trouble these compounds have been linked to. That is why I've studied and read and questioned as much as I've been able to, any experts in the medical profession who could and would help me to understand how such things function. And what I can tell you now, will, I hope encourage you somewhat.

They've told me, you see, that while a person is taking this sort of medicine for pain following a wound or other injury, they do not become dependent on the substances, not in the long term. That only occurs, my medical advisors write me, when the patient continues to ingest the compound or compounds, after their pain is gone. So, you will not need this medicine, at all, my lad, once you are recovered fully.''

'' That'd be good… if that fellow … who was here… don't d'cide t' hang me, after all…'' her patient agreed, morosely.

'' Oh, my dear! I must ask you to forgive me for allowing him to so abuse you!'' the lady cried out, her shining eyes welling with tears, her voice breaking. '' He … He will not harm you, my lad! He will not so much as approach you ever again, my word on that! Jaimey, my bag, please. And Phillips, come over to us as well, now.'' She demanded of someone he couldn't quite see off to his right, and behind her. ''Yes, here it is. Now, boys, help me to help our poor, over-worried lad here. He's in sad need of his medication. ''

She turned back to the 'lad' and smiled again. ''Now, we've done this time and time again. And you know it's only to help and to ease you. So, please, do try not to be frightened. The boys have helped me again and again to help you in this manner, so you needn't be worried. They know precisely how to help. And this should only take a few minutes' time to ease you, although it's clear you're in need of this increased dosage… ''

Strangely in this place where so few things were familiar, the 'lad' recognized her compelling voice, and her commanding manner, and couldn't help but obey her. They were all part of the warmth and care and ease she always brought him. So were the two always silent, strapping dark-skinned men who attended her at all times, and the way they also unquestioningly did her bidding. Now one of them helped the man to lie back again, and braced him strongly against what seemed to be a mound of pillows, while the other bound something very tightly around his arm. Their actions were familiar too. They'd done this before, just as she said, he thought he recollected.

''I would have let you simply drink some down, as you have sometimes, before, my boy.'' She said, and deftly put a hypodermic needle into his right arm in the next instant. ''But your need is clearly far too urgent, this time. And these injections, as I believe they're called, bring the pain under control much, much more quickly, so we've observed. We cannot allow you to suffer unduly, nor we shall not.

That would be mere cruelty, at best, and at worst it would surely be considered torture. You should begin to feel some good effect from the medicine far more swiftly when we use this means. And we will continue with these injections until and unless we note some counter-indication. I have pledged myself to your care, my boy. You need have no further worries on that score, I promise. Ah, now I believe you may be feeling some good effect… ''

He was feeling the warmth she always brought spreading through him like a stream of sunlight. And her silvery smiling eyes were full of that same warmth, and a sorrow that made him ache, because he couldn't think how to lift it. He loved her silvered grey-blue eyes, he thought, almost as much as he loved her voice. He loved her silken, warming, embracing voice, as much or more than he loved the ease of his fears and his pain only she gave him. He loved her handsome face and features, her high, finely molded brow, her wide, smiling lips. He loved both her soft, small, strong hands gripping his one, with all the strength of the spirit her eyes and her voice showed him.

He thought her face was surely something like a heroine's from the novels she constantly read to him. He thought her eyes were brighter than any sunrise he'd ever seen. Her voice, he thought was as musical, as pleasing and as heady as old brandy, as little as he'd tasted of that. Her hands seemed to send some of her own native fire through to him, it seemed now.

He thought her spirit must be far finer and stronger than any he'd ever known before, from what he glimpsed of it. And that almost scared him, now, but nothing could while she sat and spoke to him so kindly. She wasn't an angel up in Glory, too faraway for him to even think of. She was still here, staying, promising she'd stay beside him. And he believed every word she said. He couldn't do anything but believe, obey and … love her…

He loved her. And he hardly dared take notice of that growing feeling, he didn't, couldn't dare put into thoughts, much less words his thriving surety that he loved her, more than he did any of those individual wonders, those separate gifts she gave him. And he had to. He had no idea when the warmth would leave again, when the pain would build to drive it out.

He knew either that, or the well-earned judgment he knew had to be coming, would come, at last, to punish him as he was doomed to be punished. So, even if she laughed, even if she blushed, even if she grew angry at what he told her, he had to say it while his thoughts and his voice seemed able to work in something like agreement.

'' I… I … know … something is… '' He rasped now, squinting up at her, and sighing to hear how his voice squeaked and strained like a gate on a rusted hinge.

''Effecting you? Well, I surely hope it … '' she started to say, and with all the strength she gave him he managed to squeeze her hands, which clearly surprised her. ''Why, what is it?'' She asked, smiling and shaking her head at him.

''I…know …you … you're what… helps me…I … I think… y' re… grand… An' I shouldn't say … but, I …I love … you.'' He finally managed to say, and started to turn his eyes down and away again, feeling his face grow hot, not quite as sure now he wanted to see her first reaction. He couldn't look away, though.

He wanted to see her face, her smile, even more than he wanted to hide from the indignant, angrily offended reaction she'd surely have. But now, instead of narrowing with anger, her incredible eyes widened even more. And then they smiled. Then she smiled brightly, and surprised him, walking around to meet his gaze directly, so that, as he was sure she knew by now, he couldn't even try to look away.

'' m' … 'm sorry… 'm sorry, I … shouldn't've … shouldn't've … said that … ever…'' he glumly mumbled, shoulders slumping, wondering if she would start laughing any minute, or just slap his face for saying the wrongest thing he could find to say.

For a very long moment she said and did nothing at all, except to hold his eyes with her own. He felt her gaze like a moonbeam, like a knife's edge, marking, almost measuring his features. Was it possible she was looking for some sign of deception, some signal that he was only playing word games, only flirting? he wondered. But why should she doubt he or anyone would love her?

''Why do you think you shouldn't say you love me? It's quite flattering, truly, to a woman of … a certain age, as you would have no means to know.'' she finally asked, with another smile on her bright, molded features. ''I can't say for certain, of course, not being a mentalist or a mind reader. But you surely seemed entirely sincere. Did you mean what you said, young sir, or were you merely toying with my affections?''

''No, no, I … meant it… I meant… every… word. '' he admitted, feeling younger and more foolish by the minute, now. ''I wouldn't, ever… not with you… Just… don't figure you… could've expected… or would've wanted … t' hear that… Wh-why… w-would you w-want to, from a …man who c-can't even say… who doesn't even know who he is or… his own n-name t' tell you?''

'' But that's only a temporary matter, as I've tried to explain. You've been quite ill, running a high fever, more than once, just lately.

And that by itself would account for your confusion, your troubled memory, and for the general lassitude and weakness that's plaguing you so much. And as for names… one can have a dozen names, if one so chooses, by the time one goes to meet one's Maker. Although, I suppose that would be truer for a woman than a man. Men, after all, don't change their names when they wed. '' She smiled, and he wanted to find anything, anything at all that would keep that smile on her face and in her wide, sad eyes.

''Yeah, I … suppose… But… don't figure I could be m-married. Reckon a f-fella would know if …if that were so.''

''Really? Well, I can't help but agree with that notion. But, why do you say that? '' she asked still with the warm, welcoming, unjudgmental tone in her voice that he needed to hear.

''Dunno… seems like … I might've heard some fellas… say that…they could … they felt that much close … to their womenfolk… their wives… '' he offered, frowning as he realized he had no idea whatever where or how or when he'd heard 'that notion' before now.

''Well, as I said, I have found that … closeness, that bond to be incredibly real and strong between husband and wife. It just seems to be… what naturally develops, within the sacrament. And since you've been far too gallant a young gentleman to ask me, I will confess I have been very happily wed, myself… ''

Now the man on the cot beside her chair felt his face grow hot again, and heartily wished for the earth to open and swallow him up, then and there! She was a gorgeous, caring, bright and compassionate woman! Of course she was married! She was probably the belle of her town or city before being swept off her feet by some very lucky man out of her crowds of suitors! Of course she was the beloved, happy wife of some other, incredibly privileged fellow! She was all the things a gracious, gently bred woman should be, he thought, and more, much more.

'' 'm sorry… Now I know I shouldn't've said that…'m sorry…ma'am'' he muttered.

''But you needn't be, my boy!'' She exclaimed. '' After all, there's not a woman alive who doesn't enjoy a bit of flattery, now and then. Now, please, do drink the rest of your soup down, it can only help you. That's it, my boy. Let it ease you, let it help you regain your strength, which can only come when something resembling rest and calm has been restored to your beleaguered spirit.'' She held the cup to his mouth again, and he willingly sipped the warm soup down. He'd drink an ocean of it, if she asked, he thought, if it would bring the least little smile to her wide, sad eyes.

''You're real good t' say … y' don' mind my danged fool … what I said…'' he told her.

She smiled again and he thought he'd jump the moon to see her smile stay put, bright and wide, with just a tad bit of sorrow behind it. Then she lowered her voice to a soft, silken whisper.

'' I was only being as honest as you were with me, my lad.. And I will be again, I promise. But for now… as the medicine begins to help you, and it will, if you neglect to fight it. I have something else I would like very much for you to hear and … hopefully, at some later juncture, remember.

To begin with, the man who's been tormenting you in my absence… has gone quite beyond the Pale, and will have no more of my trust, much less my support for anything he still thinks to accomplish! And he … he will have his comeuppance, perhaps in the not too distant future I do assure you, most profoundly!''

''Please… don'… he's … dangerous… '' the young man insisted. ''He's gotta be as crazed as … as he says… I … I am!''

''Ah, now that I believe, entirely.'' she said, almost laughing.

'' However, his madness has the benefit … the benefit to us, my lad, of causing Heydon Palmerston Moray to believe altogether too much in his own frauds, and schemes and swindles. He sees himself as unassailable, as genuinely indestructible, as without a peer among the living. I dare say he wouldn't hesitate to call himself the equal of General Lee, or Messrs Jefferson and Washington combined, if anyone deigned to ask him!

And that egotism is his greatest weakness, and likely will prove his downfall. But for now, I must dissemble, and make it seem quite truthful when I do so. I must make our enemy believe me his staunchest ally. I must, my lad, continue a charade I'd hoped to set aside long since. I must maintain his belief in my own bitterest delusions. And most of all, as much as I loathe the notion, I must sustain our adversary's conviction that I remain entirely taken in by his damnable mendacity and by his even more repugnant sycophancy!

That is the major part of the duty I have now to fulfill, deceiving that appalling Deceiver! And in doing my duty, my boy, you will sometimes see and hear me acting and speaking quite … bizarrely. So, try to hold to what I tell you now, with all the strength you can muster. What I do and say for the next little while, is all for show. What you hear me say and see me do for a hopefully brief, time will seem very much at counter purposes … And it will all be to the main purpose I have now, which is to end this ordeal as soon as it may be … and for all of us, I promise you. Will you try to remember?''

''I will, I promise!'' he told her, hoping the drugs and the pain and the icy fury of their 'adversary' didn't make a liar of him, later.

''Someone is definitely eavesdropping on us, again, now. So, I'll take up my charade again, and you need only follow my lead, as I know already you're more than capable of doing. You've quite a sharp wit, my lad. And I know, when you're well again, you will leave this place and myself far behind.'' the lady said, and winked at him, rather boldly, she considered.

''When I'm well… what… ha-happens… th-th-then?'' He asked, as her silvery voice stopped for a moment, and the chill threatened to take him over.

''What? Why, then you will be able to return to duty, and continue on your valiant, warrior-knight's path to Honor.'' She told him almost merrily.

'' Of course, we must all be soldiers, dutifully, valorously carrying on, I believe, while the Crisis is still upon us. And you are undoubtedly fated to do heroic, glorious duty to our Cause, once you've become strong again. You'll surely become a renowned cavalry officer, long before our Day of Ultimate Victory arrives I'm certain, in fact that you will go on to a brilliant career in the ranks of our Glorious Confederacy's military leaders!

You may not recall it at this instant, but I believe I mentioned both my dearest brothers, and my cherished heart's love, my husband, serve our Beloved Nation as cavalrymen, themselves. And I'm so terribly proud of them and of all you valiant boys in grey! And of course we all must make our sacrifices on the Altar of the Nation, mustn't we, in these terrible times?''

'' brilliant… career?… terrible times? … Th'… Th' Conflict, y' mean, ma'am?'' The man in her charge dazedly asked her. The drug was working in him strongly now, and he was genuinely confused, now. But she shook her head and gave him another of her amazing, rueful smiles.

'' Now, you mustn't, you truly mustn't be worried about your present confusion. It's quite simple, really. You must have suffered so terribly, and so long before you came to us. I believe I understood you were held prisoner at one point, in one of those dreadful Yankee camps! And hardship, suffering like that, can certainly be as much a detriment to clear thinking, as it is to valid recollection. So, I know without you mentioning it again that you're rather badly confused about your present circumstances, which has only been aggravated by the fantasies that can crop up in fever dreams. '' She answered.

'' I … I was… '' He muttered, with amazed relief at what seemed a concrete memory returning. '' I was in a … camp… a prison…camp. We… we tried t' make a break… An' couldn't get out. I … got shot. Seems… a hundred years… ''

''But you've recalled it on your own! That's marvelous progress, truly'' She assured him. ''Now, please do try to comprehend what I'm telling you, and then do try to rest, once more, while I read … right here beside you.

Now, if I must enforce rest upon you, I absolutely shall. In any case, it's nearly half a day since you had your medicine last. I must make a much greater effort, it now appears so that the schedule for your care is rigorously kept. This progress you've made, despite that … harsh interference, only tells me we are moving in the right direction. Please drink this down, my lad. That's it. '' She held a warm, smooth lipped cup to his mouth now, and he obeyed her, sipping down its contents. While she smiled at him and praised him, he thought he'd swim in the bitter stuff, if she asked.

'' That's it. I'd much prefer to hold off on the injections you abhor, as I completely understand. We used them to begin with, naturally, when your pain was that much more severe. I'd much prefer to lessen your dosage, as soon as that is possible, as well. That's it, that's a fine, good boy. Now, now, don't frown at that usage, please. The sad fact is, I am your elder, by more years than I'd truly care to tell you. And being a good Southron boy, I know you were trained to strictly mind the elder ladies in your kinship, weren't you?''

'' Yes, 'um.'' he agreed, feeling the warming she brought him, and feeling very shy, suddenly under her wide, wise eyes. ''But, I don't… well, figure I c-can't recall ju-just now any of 'em… li-like you.''

''Well, that's not a very strong compliment, then. But I'll accept it.'' she smiled, warming him again. '' When a woman reaches a certain age, you see, she really cannot afford to turn away even the most evident flattery.'' She laughed and that was warming too. So was everything, warm and safe again around him, when she came back. He knew she would stay… maybe she would truly, truly stay… this time…

''st-stay… '' he begged her. '' th-this… t-ti…time? ''

''Well, surely.'' her silvery, velvet, warming voice whispered to him, and he was sheltered, was safe again. ''There, there now. You're quite safe. I will allow no further harm to come to you, now. But for now, rest quietly and be assured, you and I are becoming friends.

And I never have allowed a friend or kinsman, or a stranger in need, for that matter to be taken from my care, ever. I never shall. I'll not lose you, I swear it. I'm right here with you, again. Right here. Try to understand me. Try to understand, I'm right beside you. Please, do try. Please take your ease, please, let the medicine, the substance do it's work, and take your ease, my boy. Close your eyes, now… rest. ''

' 'Pl-pl-please… you… you'll st-stay?'' he rasped desperately in reply, even as her warmth consoled him, once again, fearing it would start to fade.

''Why, surely. Why, of course, I shall. And I'll read to you. I know you love to hear these old stories. I know you've always loved to hear them read.''

''St-sto- stories… '' he agreed, without moving, even nodding was far too much of an effort, now. ''st-sto…''

''Hero stories. What else would a boy love so much to hear? Don't boys always dream of being, of becoming heroes? Now, lie back, my boy. Rest now, I'll stay here, reading, right beside you. I promise you. I shall, just as long as I'm able…''

''N-n-no, pl-pl-ple… don'… don'… g-g-go!'' he begged, helplessly reaching, hopelessly still unable to hold on.

''Why surely! Heavens! Calm yourself, now, I only now came back, after all! Lie back now. That's my boy. Calm yourself. I'm sitting right here beside you, now. Can't you … oh, my poor boy, can't you hear me? Can't you see I'm here beside you, once more?'' she smiled, and leaned yet closer.

'' see … see you… '' he responded, squinting upwards. There were those wide silvery grey-blue, amazing, entrancing eyes again… There they were, smiling, shining down from far, far away, again, as if from Glory. '' see… you… your … pretty… eyes… ''

''And you, young sir, are an evident flatterer! But then, what Southron isn't? Now, as I already requested, you must try to rest. Do try Now rest, my dear, lost boy. Rest, and be at ease. I'm at your side, once more.''' She said, and briefly took his hand.

'' try…'' he agreed, and as if it were her hands, the softness he desperately needed folded around him, again. She was still here. she'd held his hand for a moment. She was staying, at least for now. She was sheltering and safeguarding him. She … was holding him in soft, warm, strong, yet translucent wings of gauzy cotton wool…She was holding him with her soft, compelling voice, speaking and reading to him. He wasn't sure a bit what she was saying, or what she read, but her voice was there, surrounding and protecting him.

She was glad to be there, he almost hoped. She was greatly pleased with his baby steps in remembering… What was it he'd remembered? That was slipping away now, and he knew she wouldn't blame him, wouldn't sneer or rant or rail at him for it. She was sitting by him speaking low and musically and warmly. He didn't care, he didn't give a flying fig now, that he couldn't tell what it was she said. He was safe again, but only within the shielding of her voice. Within that shelter, that stone capped redoubt, he could rest, he could drift away in warmth and surety and safety.

'' No more of our dear Sir Walter's fantasies, then, my lad. We'll turn to Mister Dickens' harder, and it may be, truer tales, now, my boy.''

Chapter I The Period

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way."

[Charles Dickens 'A Tale of Two Cities' Chapter One]


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER TWELVE Sherman ranch 12 miles outside Laramie,

Wyoming Territory, , the 1870s

Three men rode up to the small ranch house in the early afternoon of a day more than a month after Jess Harper rode east. Slim Sherman was working on the ranch account books, and barely glanced up and out the front window when he heard the riders. Friends and neighbors had been coming in and leaving again in increasing numbers, during the search for Jess. So three more wasn't anything to take much note of, not until the riders were at the ranch house door, at least. And today, not only was Slim struggling with the numbers he needed to keep straight for ranch and the relay company, but the young rancher was sorely missing the kind of joshing Jess normally gave him about this chore.

_Heck, I'm even missing the way Jess always does his level best to duck out on doing the books, himself! _Slim realized, frowning and slamming the books shut.

Standing now and stretching his long frame, the rancher gave another glance out the window. Then he froze in his tracks. Two of the men, dismounting from a big bay pinto stallion and a lithe dapple-grey gelding, were complete strangers to the young rancher. One was tall, nearly as tall as Slim himself, with strong, olive-cast, molded features, and thick dark hair. The second man was wirily, compactly built with dark-sandy hair and sharp features. They both were also much better dressed, more like a pair of eastern gents, than anyone around Laramie usually managed, excepting maybe the local banker or mortician.

The taller man, especially, Slim considered, would likely be called a dude, around here. He wore a ruffled shirt, an expensive looking suit and an odd sort of necktie, somewhere halfway between a small bandana and the eastern style cravats Slim had seen. The slighter newcomer dressed a lot like the rancher had seen some traveling doctors, but with the added touch of a fancy vest and the subtraction of any sort of necktie, cravat, bolo or string tie.

But the third rider, who had his back turned to the ranch house while he

fed something Slim couldn't see to his big, bright sorrel gelding was wirily muscular, whip-thin, and possessed of a thick head of unruly, coarse

black hair!

He was dressed far more like a trail hand or scout, then his companions, Slim thought, wearing a worn leather vest over a dark work shirt and denims. And then this third man turned more towards the house and Slim gasped, nearly calling out his partner's name. The black-haired man outside, crookedly grinning and nodding as he listened to the other riders, was either Jess himself, or the identical twin Jess never had…_ Or who in blue blazes is he? _Slim wondered, striding towards the ranch house door and reaching to pull it open.

''Slim, dear; that can't be…'' Daisy Cooper said, walking up beside her eldest son and putting one soft hand on his arm, now. ''Slim, tell me I'm not seeing our Jess standing out there with those two strangers and not even looking this way, much less bursting into the house to tell us where he's been all this time?''

Slim turned to grasp Daisy's hand and tried to smile comfortingly at the widow.

'' I don't think so, Daisy. It's just not how Jess would act, after being gone more than a month, this way! I don't know, yet. But I'm surely going to find out! ''

The rancher turned back to the door, and stopped again. The man who looked enough like Jess to be his alter-ego, now took a loping stride away from his companions, as if to study the small ranch house, the dooryard and the outbuildings. His whole manner was that of someone who liked what he saw, but had never seen it before.

And there was something else that caught Slim's attention now, and he was certain sure Daisy saw it, too. The loping strides the black haired man took now, as he turned to look all the way around the yard were flawed, and markedly, by the way he favored his right leg. It was giving him no small trouble, Slim guessed, but not the way a fresh break or newly splinted leg would do. No, this stranger was dealing with and moving like a man still fighting back from an injury done him months back. And there was nothing wrong with Jess' legs when the young Texan left home, something over a month ago.

''No, Daisy, now I'm certain sure, he's not Jess. But I still don't know who he is, or who he could be to look _that much_ like _our Texan_.'' Slim answered his surrogate mother. ''And I have no idea _who_ the other two are, either… Or do I?''

'' No, I see what you mean. Jess wasn't hurt, not when he left. And that's certainly not Traveler he rode in here. But … Slim, wait, what do you mean, by asking if you know them?'' Daisy asked, looking up at Slim, still holding onto his arm, now.

'' We got that wire, and that letter, just last week, from Jess' cousin, Jemmy Singer, remember?'' Slim told her, patting her hand. '' He said he'd be out here to join the search from this end, just as soon as he could make it.

And he wrote that he'd bring some help along with him, as many of his friends as he could 'pry loose' from his team leader, back in Nebraska. Well, Jess _never said_ he looks _just like_ his cousin from North Carolina. But then Jess hardly ever talks about his kin, now does he? So, I'm thinking the fellow out there, that nearly gave both of us a turn, could be Jemmy. Let's go find out, all right?''

''Yes, let's do just that!'' Daisy grinned and, smiling at the way Slim clipped his long strides to match her shorter ones, walked outside with the young rancher. ''Good afternoon, gentlemen.'' Daisy called out, as she and Slim stepped off the porch, and walked up to Jess' _doppelganger_. '' I'm Mrs. Cooper, and this is Slim Sherman. Are you by any chance, our Jess' cousin, Doctor Jemison Singer?''

Cooper Smith grinned widely at the question and shook his head, taking and warmly shaking the hand Daisy offered. '' No, no, ma'am, Missus Cooper. I'm Jess' cousin, all right; his momma and mine were sisters, you see.

But I'm Cooper Smith, Jess' cousin from Nacogdoches. This scrawny, underfed lookin', shy young fellow here, _he's_ Jess an' my cousin from Raleigh, Jemmy Singer, ma'am. Jemmy's momma and ours were cousins, too. And this tall gent, he's Jem's friend, Adam Gordonson… from, Adam, didn't you say you're from San Francisco?''

'' I am that.'' Adam nodded, smiling and then swept a full stage-courtier's bow to Daisy. '' And I'm delighted to meet you, ma'am. I'm Adam Elisha Auriel Gordonson. And I'm Jem's partner as well. So, I've been detailed, once again, to make sure he stays out of trouble. And you must be Mrs. Marjorie Alys Torrance Cooper. ''

''_Marjorie Alys_?'' Slim echoed, blinking in surprise.

'' Adam _Elisha Auriel_?'' Coop repeated, turning to stare at Adam with similar astonishment.

''Don't even start on the Elisha Auriel thing with him, Cousin, or we'll never hear the end of it.'' Jemmy whispered to Coop now, and then turned to look at Daisy again, his green eyes wide. ''But .. Adam, did you say_ Marjorie Alys Torrance_… Cooper?'' Jemmydemanded_, _turning from his partner to Daisy and back again twice.''My gosh! Why didn't I guess that? You could be Granma Ce… I meant to say my grandmother Celia's twin!''

'' Thank you, Mr. Gordonson. I'm delighted to meet you, as well. And you're more than welcome to our home, all the more since I know you've come with Cooper and Jemison to help us find Jess. Oh, and no, I'm not Celia's twin, Jemison. I'm her first cousin. '' Daisy chuckled. '''Which I suppose accounts for our resembling one another, just as being first cousins likely does account for our Jess and Cooper looking somewhat alike.''

''Somewhat?'' Jemmy and Slim both exclaimed this time.

''Somewhat.'' Daisy and Coop firmly repeated, nodding.

''Daisy, you said… You asked me if he could be Jess!'' Slim exclaimed, frowning down at the widow.

'' And now I see my error.'' Daisy answered, smiling up at the rancher.

''Well, I figure we can settle that question some other time.'' Jemmy said, frowning at his older Texan cousin. '' Mrs. Cooper, Mr. Sherman, before anything else comes up. I want to genuinely apologize to both of you.''

'' Apologize? Why?'' Daisy asked, swallowing her sudden fear and managing a half smile for the Carolinian.

'' Yes, what would you want to apologize for?'' Slim demanded, suddenly worried that the trio had come to bring his family the worst kind of bad news.

''Jem, I told you not to start out on this sort of note.'' Adam protested, putting one hand on each of Jemmy's shoulders and turning the younger man around to face him. '' You're _scaring _these good people, partner. And that's a lot more worth apologizing. Mrs. Cooper, Mr. Sherman, my partner can be fairly good with words, even eloquent, when he works at it. But he can be as stumble tongued as a schoolboy, when he doesn't. We have _neither bad_ nor good news to bring you about the young man who's gone missing. And we're all of us glad not to have the former, and sorry not to have the latter.''

'' Adam's right, I started out just then, very badly. And I'm sorry to have startled you that way.'' Jemmy agreed, frowning and pulling away from his partner. Then he turned to smile tiredly at the grey eyed, silver haired widow, and the tall blond rancher by her side. They were Jess' family now, and much more so than the Carolinian felt he'd been, lately.

'' We don't know anything more about Jess right this moment than you do yourselves. What I wanted to say is this: I'm afraid all this trouble, including the trouble we greatly hope Jess isn't in, is entirely, entirely my fault. If I'd written Jess a lot sooner and with more detail than I finally did… I can't help thinking he'd have decided to wait right here to find out what we could figure out together, about these… troublemakers.''

''He's plumb wrong there, ma'am.'' Coop insisted shaking his head with a smile. ''But Jemmy's been bound and determined he'd apologize anyway, since a good week and more before we left North Platte. ''And he is a Tar-Heel, which you may or may not have heard makes him one of the most stubborn creatures ever known to go about on two legs.

So, we learned a long while ago not to get in Jem's way when he decided to go somewhere, and more to the point, not to try movin' him once he decided to take a stand. Of course, th' rest of us tend to figure that last must be why more boys from 'the Old North State' got busted up or worse in the War than from anywhere else in the whole, entire South. And when we checked we found out why. They couldn't get outa the way of trouble as fast as the rest of us, 'cause they _really did_ paint tar on their heels!''

''I think we did hear something about that, at a couple of the fights the First Nebraska saw.'' Slim nodded, smiling back at the Texan who looked astonishingly like his partner and yet wasn't Jess Harper.

''And of course there's no such critter on the face of the earth as a mule-headed Texan, and never has been.'' Jemmy protested, frowning at his cousin. '' Again, I'm sorry to have worried you that way, Mrs. Cooper. And I still am sorry I … asked Jess to come east to meet me, instead of my coming here. Clearly, I just proved I could have done just that and saved saved you all a lot of apprehension.''

''No, Dr. Singer, I agree with Mr. Smith, so I'm sorry, I can't agree with you. '' Daisy shook her head, liking these cousins of Jess' immediately for the concern their handsome faces radiated for him, and his family.

''Jess can be … rather determined, too, once he decides what's best to do. And once he read your letter, Jess told us he believed he shouldn't wait to talk to you about these… terrible happenings. In fact, he was certain he could help your investigation, since it involved the men and boys he knew and fought with, during the War. And Mr. Smith, will you please excuse Slim? You do look a great deal like our Jess, but not enough to warrant staring.''

''Daisy!'' Slim exclaimed, laughing, glad for something she could plague him about for a moment, and ease her constant fear for her 'middle son'. ''He looks nearly enough like Jess to be his twin!''

''Well, nearly enough, dear. Well, that's what I said, isn't it?'' Daisy smiled up at him. ''Now, please, come in, gentlemen, and relax. We'll talk about what's to be done next, over some supper. I'm sorry, what did you want to ask me, Mr. Smith?'' the widow Cooper turned back from grinning at Slim to smiling at the older Texan, as she took Coop's arm on her left and Jemmy's on her right.

''Well, first of all, would you please call me Coop, Mrs. Cooper? I keep havin' to explain to folks these days, it seems that Mr. Smith was m' Daddy. And, then, well… are you a mind-reader?''

''Well, surely. I'd be glad to call you Coop. I suppose I'm still a bit old fashioned, and I always wait…And please, please, call me Daisy. And I … well, I never set out to read anyone's thoughts, of course.

I suppose I have learned to read faces, though… partly from Jess, in fact. He's a fine judge of character, as you must know. ''

''But that still leaves me with the question you … '' Coop shook his dark head again. ''I can't help wondering… Daisy, how did you know certain sure I wasn't Jess riding down that hill out there with Jemmy, just now? Jess and I have been managing one kind tomfoolery or another about our lookin' alike since we were little kids. And I saw the wire Jemmy sent, that he was coming out here to meet you both. He didn't mention I meant to come along. In fact, he didn't mention it was my notion to come on and help look for that troublemaking young cousin of ours on this end, to begin with. So… ''

''How did I know you weren't my middle son coming home with his cousin from Carolina?'' Daisy repeated, as she led them into the ranch house 'parlor'. '' Well, as Slim pointed out, I didn't, not right away. But after a few moments, it became simple really in some ways. But it's not so simple in others.

For starters, you weren't riding Jess' Traveler, but that handsome sorrel. Then also, when Jess left he wasn't favoring either of his legs. He hasn't had a broken bone since he tried snow-sledding with Mike last winter, in fact, and then it was his left wrist. So I'd have to say the clearest, superficial difference, Coop, is how you're favoring your lower right limb, just now.

And then, there's the way I've already noticed you interacting with Slim, and with Dr. Singer… You're not deferring to either of them. Well, Jess told me his cousin from Raleigh is a little more than a year older than he is, and Slim's something more than two years Jess' senior. But you're … only a few months younger than Slim, yourself, so the two of you are definitely peers. And Jess, although I don't think I've ever heard him say it in so many words, very much respects all three of you. And I think I'm in trouble now, Jess wouldn't like my telling you that… not one bit!''

''No, ma'am I don't imagine Jess would.'' Coop grinned. ''He doesn't like to seem any great respecter of persons, much less family!''

''Okay, now I'm the one feeling old here!'' Slim protested.

''And I'm the one feeling like a stranger. '' Jemmy mourned, but with a half grin on his face. ''Can I ask you both to call me Jemmy? Otherwise, I'll start feeling like I'm here on call!''

'' Jemmy's always thinking he must be on call somewhere,'' Coop somberly advised Slim and Daisy, now . '' the boy doesn't seem to think most of the world can get along without him!''

''Cooper's exaggerating a bit there. Well, just a bit.'' Adam grinned, joining in the conversation.

'' What Jem's always thinking is that he must be needed somewhere to keep his partners out of trouble, when just the opposite almost always proves to be the case. And, there's no seeming about it, Jemison really does think the Secret Service and the President can't get on without him, which notion has also been disproved on more than one occasion. Now, partner, you weren't already starting to argue with Cooper and our new friends here, were you?''

'' No, partner, I wasn't arguing with anyone.'' Jemmy answered, grimacing at his partner. ''I always wait till you come back into the conversation, before I do that. And besides, there happens to be a lady present, partner. So I'm not likely to argue with anyone, not even you, under those circumstances. What we were talking about, Adam, was the compelling family resemblance between my east Texas cousins."

''Honestly, you might as well say Jemmy looks exactly like his brothers Benjy and Gerald Michael, which he does, just a bit. But that's what Jess and me never have figured exactly , you see.'' Coop offered.

'' Well, I don't look anything like Benj, that's certain sure, especially not these days as he's gone grey as a fox in winter. But there always have been folks who thought my eldest brother GM and I bear each other some resemblance.'' Jemmy agreed. ''And I'm almost afraid to ask this, Cooper, but what is it, that you and Jess never figured, exactly, ?''

''Exactly how folks can mix us up at all, Cousin!'' Coop grimaced. ''And that used t' be danged funny, too, but it's not so much good for a laugh, not just lately, though.''

''No, I'm afraid it's not. Gentlemen, please come sit down… that is, if I may assume, Mr. Gordonson, Jemison, that there's no one else from your organization we should be expecting?'' Daisy asked.

Jemmy traded glances with Adam and shook his head. ''No, no one else, that I'm aware of, Mrs. Cooper. In fact, we did our level best to discourage the rest of the team from imposing upon your hospitality.''

'' Jemmy means to say, Mrs. Daisy, that he and Adam did their level best to keep me from telling the other fellows, their other partners, what Jess has written me, when he's written at all, goin' on about your cooking and your baking.'' Coop grinned.

Daisy couldn't keep from grinning herself at that evident compliment. ''Jess is fond of my pies, that's so. I … I'm afraid I haven't done as much baking… the past few weeks… as usual…not until I heard we'd have company coming… Oh dear! Oh dear! I almost … I'd better go check on my roast! Slim, will you please …''' the widow sighed blinking back a tear or two from her bright grey eyes.

''I'll make sure everyone gets settled, sure, Daisy.'' the rancher agreed, shaking his head as Daisy rushed back to her kitchen. ''She misses that unruly partner of mine, one heck of a lot.'' Slim told the newcomers. '' In fact, she's really worried about Jess. I don't suppose you fellows heard anything more on your way here… ''

'' Nope.'' Coop answered, taking the lead without thinking to ask. ''But Jemmy and Adam's partners… they've got a whole team workin' on this, they were going to wait at North Platte a few more days, and then start west, joinin' the search from that end, Mr…''

'' Please, call me Slim.'' the young rancher asked. ''But why are they still waiting that far back east, though? Jess … if he's not holed up fishing somewhere, would have reached North Platte nearly two weeks ago, by now, at the latest. And if that unruly partner of mine has been holed up fishin' somewhere between Laramie and North Platte all this time… I swear, I'm going to … whale the tar right out of him when he gets home… right after

I hug the stuffing out of him, that is!''

''And I'd be glad to help you do just exactly that, Slim.'' Jemmy agreed. '' The other fellows on Thomas Macquillan's team with us were waiting a few more days just in case some of our field agents came in with something new on the case… and on the search for Jess, as well. I'm afraid you're right, though I would have expected Jess to make it there… before now, or to come on back … if he decided he still doesn't want to talk to me.''

'' That's exactly why we're all worrying about him, isn't it? It's just not like Jess, not the Jess I know, anyhow, to just take off… '' Slim frowned. '' I realize you two have known him a lot longer than I have, of course. But, still, Jess just doesn't…''

''Jess! Jess! You're okay! You got back okay! I told Slim an' Aunt Daisy you would! I told them not to wor… '' Mike Williams called out, dashing into the ranch house, latching onto and nearly knocking Coop over, as the Texan stood with his back to the doorway.

''Hold it, Mike!'' Slim called out, reaching for the tyke and sighing as he realized the little boy didn't know who he was grabbing hold of.

''It's alright.'' Coop said, turning just in time to catch the boy and keep them both on their feet. '' You might want to take it easy there, sport.''

'' Hey! Hey, you ain't Jess!'' the ten year old shouted wriggling out of this stranger's grasp, staring angrily up at Coop. ''You…''

'' No, I'm his cousin, Cooper, we grew up together, in east Texas. Jess' momma and mine were sisters.

And you're his young partner and his friend, Mike Williams, aren't you?'' the black haired, bright eyed man asked, his eyes a little brighter and much sadder at having disappointed the youngster he knew Jess to be so fond of.

''Yeah.'' Mike frowned. '' Jess n' Slim 'dopted me, when I was littler. My folks … they died, an' so did Jess'… when he was 'bout my age.''

''That's right, Mike. Jess wrote me about you coming to stay here on the ranch. He's real glad you did. But I'm sure you know that, don't you?'' Coop asked the tyke, wondering if this sun-bleached towhead reminded Jess of Alec, the little brother he lost, or Danny the brother who barely survived the fire, years ago.

''Hey, you must be Jess' surprise!'' Mike exclaimed still staring up at the scout.

''Umm, Jess' surprise?'' Coop asked the boy. '' 'M sorry, Mike, I don't know what you mean.''

'' Jess said he was gonna try to bring us back a surprise… Jess said, 'maybe I'll be able to bring you back a surprise you'd never expect. An' Jess never told us… Well, mean t' say, Jess never told me he had a cousin looked a lot like him! So, you've gotta be Jess' surprise, ain't… mean t' say, aren't you, Mister Coop?'' Mike demanded.

''Michael Timothy Williams!'' Daisy called out now, standing in the kitchen doorway, her hands on her hips, shaking her silvery head of curls. ''Is that the way I've taught you to enter this house, or to welcome visitors here?''

''No ma'am.'' Mike said, his bright eyes downcast now, his thin shoulders slumping. '' 'm sorry. 'm real sorry … It ain'… mean t' say it's not alright to run at folks er holler at 'em. Figure I shouldn't have jumped all over a comclusion, that way. m' glad t' meet y'. ''

''But will you please just call me 'Coop', Mike? Cause I'd really like to be friends with both Jess' partners here.'' ''And I'm glad to meet the fellow who helps Jess keep this place runnin' so well.'' Coop smiled, winking at Slim, to make sure the rancher knew he was 'exaggerating something his cousin wrote.

'' told Jess I would.'' Mike muttered, with a half-smile at Coop. Then his wide blue eyes seemed to finally take in the two other strangers in the house, and go wide again, especially as he intently studied Adam. ' best I get back to doin' chores, now, reckon, so I keep m' promise. Oh, wait! Aunt Daisy, am I s'posed t' interduce me to th' comp'ny, too?''

''No, Mike, I should have done that, myself, already.'' Daisy admitted, ruefully grinning.

''And since you've already met Cooper, let me introduce you to Jemmy Singer, Jess' cousin from North Carolina, and their friend Adam Gordonson, who's from California.''

''Jess' sister Francie, she lives in California!'' Mike beamed at Adam, proud of sharing what he knew. ''Do you know her? Jess says she's gonna have… ''

''Michael!'' Daisy exclaimed, her face brightening. '' Please go back outside and finish the last chore you were doing before this …interruption, then please wash up. Then come in and we'll do your lessons, while supper's getting ready. And I think you and I or maybe you and Slim had better have a talk, later on, about what does and what doesn't make up polite conversation.''

''I'll be glad to leave that one to you, Daisy.'' Slim admitted, hastily swallowing his own grin as Mike rushed back outside, and the widow turned her grey gaze to him.

''Yes, I'm sure you would be.'' Daisy agreed, then turned to the visitors. ''Gentlemen, I'm sorry you're still waiting to get settled before supper. But we have plenty of room just now, with the stage relay season just barely getting started. Slim, dear?''

''Right back this way, gents.'' Slim said, shaking his head, gesturing, and then leading them to the room that had long since been set aside for stage passengers who had to stay over, and the one that had been Jonesy's, for years. still smiling as he noted how having 'company', despite the worrisome reason, gave Daisy and Mike something of a boost, or a distraction from wondering what'd happened to her missing son and his big brother.

Slim was worried enough by now to admit it, but his first choice was never going to be discussing any worries he had with young Mike present. That wasn't the way his Pa raised him and Andy, and that wasn't the way he meant to raise Mike, now. Children should be allowed their childhood, their time of innocence and wonder, as much and as often as the harsh world allowed. And Mike Williams all of ten years old, had already endured more than Slim thought any little boy should.

Slim was determined to protect the orphaned boy, as he'd tried his best to do for Andy, as he often wished someone had protected Jess when the Texan was close to Mike's young age. The scars from brutally losing his own childhood and most of his family at ten and a half were still there to be seen in Jess' eyes sometimes and heard in his voice. Slim vividly recalled the way he'd learned the awful story, in scraps and fragments as Jess found himself able to reveal it at all over time, and his own shocked reaction.

The notion of someone, anyone being both callous and cowardly enough to try murdering an entire young family in the dead of night astonished and repulsed Slim, as he knew it would any feeling human being. And the men responsible- this was the part Slim knew he would never understand as a grown man anymore than Jess had as a boy- the men responsible could have just kicked the Harper family off that 'speck of dust up on th' Panhandle' as Jess called it, anytime they wanted to, legally, without shedding a single drop of blood! And how different a life could Jess have had, how different a man would Jess Harper be today if …

[ _Well now, wait, wait a second, there_… ] Slim thought he could almost hear his Pard calling out. [ _How d'y' know you'd even cotton to me a bit if I turned out different than I am, Pard? How d' I know I'd cotton to you an' Andy an all this settlin' down if I hadn't gone On the Drift, if I hadn't been out in that Big Open all on my lonesome for so danged long? _]

[ _There's no way of knowin' that at this late date, Pard. ] _Slim thought back to the friend and partner, the brother in all but birth he missed as much as Mike or Daisy, and sometimes more. [ _There's just no way of knowing how we'd get along if you hadn't turned out a touchy, moody rapid-fire drifter and I hadn't turned out a danged stubborn damYankee sometimes overly worried, other times overly naïve rancher!_

_And then there's still the question of why a man who claims to know his way around the Big Open would ever ground hitch his horse to a 'No Trespassing' sign – and in fact, to the only No Trespassing sign for miles around! I know Andy had to teach you how to swim that first summer, Jess. I don't recall my little brother mentioning he needed to teach you how to read, too, Pard! _] Slim laughed at the image of Jess in his mind, scowling at the kind of plaguing the Texan liked as much as he did, but in the other direction!

[ _You're real funny, Pard. Yeah, real hilarious. But not when you're bein' so danged old and forgetful, like you are, right now. I helped Andy with his readin' … all that first winter, when he was tryin' to figure some of those books he had to read to even get ready for that dang school in St. Louie to say if he could come there! _

_They claimed they had t' test Andy on all the fifty-cent words all those fancy, high-tone books get written down in…Well, I already knew most of the stories in 'em, which helped your little brother quite a bit. So maybe you could have figured by now, Slim that bein' on the drift, a fellow don't always want to let on how bright he mi' mebbee, right off-like_. ]

[_ Okay, Jess, if that's how you want to explain it… sure. ] Slim smiled again and then shook his head. [ But Jess, while you're explaining things, would you just come on and tell me, tell your Pard where in the very devil you've gotten off to, this time? _]

[ _Would if I could, Pard. Honest for true, I would. I can't tell you, cause I can't figure it m'self. Nope, ain't got th' least idea_… _figure that's 'cause we ain't really talkin' this out… cept in your head. Hope that's th' reason, anyhow… I don' know where th' heck I am right now… _

_Reckon that'd be th' reason… don't you, Slim? Slim? Hey, Slim! D' y' figure mebbee you can figure this out, 'cause I can't rightly seem to… Can you figure it, Pard, can't you just come on an' find me? I'm thinkin' I mi' mebbee be in some kinda trouble… I'm thinkin' I mi' mebbee need _

_a hand … _]

''I'll find you, Jess. I swear I will!'' Slim murmured, slamming his big right fist into his left palm, as the imagined form of his partner vanished even from his own thoughts, for now.

''We'll find Jess, Slim. Together, I know we can. And I know we will.'' Coop amended, walking up to the rancher so quietly he almost made Slim jump. Almost, but instead, the rancher found this older Texan's presence

as reassuring as his words.

Coop was, as Daisy noted, the same age as Slim, give or take a few months. But this Texan carried himself with the kind of self-reliance and self awareness Slim was more used to finding in Mort or Jonesy or other older men. Daisy was right, Coop's manner was different from Jess', making him seem more at ease in his own skin.

And, Slim thought, glancing at Jess cousin, there was another disparity between the Texan cousins that he might never have thought of without meeting Cooper Smith. This older east Texan's bright blue eyes held a long-lived note of sadness in their depths. But he wasn't bitter. And he wasn't, apparently, all that quick tempered, nor did Coop seem prone to hurried judgments. But he was no stranger to regrets or sorrows, either. And Slim found that an oddly comforting realization, without exactly understanding why.

Slim turned around and took another, closer look at the Texan. He was just as wiry, just as short-waisted, and he had leather gloves snugged on over a pair of hands just as long and just as callused. And he had identically deep-set blue-sky eyes. His hair was just as coarse, just as dark-almost-to-black-brown, and he kept it just as close cropped, except where it fell, despite any and all efforts, over his forehead, above his 'map-of-Ireland' features. The same, or a very similar dry sense of humor lit those blue eyes, too, and his mouth was quirking up at one corner in an identically crooked grin. On top of that, this man's voice was just as deep and warm, carried in the same gravelly-grumble…

'' I hope we're both right about that, Coop.'' Slim told this newfound friend from Texas. ''I surely do. We miss Jess around here… Daisy, Mike and I miss that blamed stubborn, tetchy …''

''magnet for disaster?'' Coop suggested with a rueful grin, nodding, when Slim stopped himself in the midst of describing Jess to a man who grew up with his missing partner. ''Funny thing is, that's just what some of the folks I work with these days have called me, and I mean, just lately. I figure it's just something about bein' born and bred in Texas. The boys I grew up with, Jess included, from down around Nacogdoches, Wichita Falls, and Houston, Fort Worth, Galveston Island and San Antonio… just prett much all over Texas just seem to …draw trouble to them, to us… wherever we end up.

Seems like Jess has had a lot less of that goin' on with him, though, since he landed here. Do you have somethin' in the water here in Wyoming Territory that keeps us wild-heart Texas boys out of too much trouble, Slim? Because if you do, you should either bottle it and ship it down there, or else make sure it's never allowed to cross over into my home state from Oklahoma Territory or Texarkana. And probably, the latter, more than the former, 'cause Texans, well, we do like our trouble, now and then.''

''Oh, I can tell you about how little trouble Jess' had since he 'landed' here!'' Slim laughed. ''In fact, I think I can give you a pretty good idea of just how quiet things have been around Laramie since then! C'mon back to the kitchen whenever you and the others are ready, I'm going to go see if Daisy needs a helping hand or a shoulder. This has been … damned hard on her, and she hardly gives a sign… '' Slim shook his head.

'' It's really fine to know more folks who give a care about my reckless cousin Jess, really fine. He went without, in a manner of speaking, way too long. I know I could've done more, myself… if I'd made the effort. Jess likely didn't tell you he and I haven't kept in touch that well ourselves, since th' next early spring, year after th' war was over… when my momma passed away. I've got no braggin' rights when it comes to looking after family, that's certain sure!'' Coop sighed, and frowned.

''I've never once known Jess to have a bad word to say about you, Coop.'' Slim offered. ''But then, I never once heard him say you looked anything alike, either! And I'll tell you, if you had been riding Traveler down that hill, earlier today… I'm not sure I wouldn't have rushed out just like young Mike rushed in, sure as anything you were Jess, coming home. I just hope … it would just about break Jess' heart if anyone hurt or misused that big bay of his! That's been one of the few reasons I've had for thinking someone could have found Jess hurt and took them both in… ''

''And that's surely possible.'' Adam offered, joining them.'' There could be any number of reasons we haven't heard… For example, if he were found unconscious, a compassionate stranger taking him in, would have no way of knowing young Jacob has family waiting for and wondering about him… ''

' Wait, young Jacob?'' Slim repeated. ''Who's that? Who are you talking about now?''

Coop, Jemmy and Adam exchanged glances, at which the actor-agent grimaced and went on to explain while the cousins frowned darkly at him. ''I'm rather detail-oriented, Mr. Sher… Slim, that is I meant to say… And in my own casework on this investigation it came to my attention that the young man's …your partner's … given name isn't Jess, or Jesse, for that matter. And names are always very interesting to me… in so many cases they tell a great deal about the person named, their background, their family history… ''

''Adam!'' Jemmy exclaimed, walking up to join the trio and shaking his head, speaking as calmly as he could manage while his partner rambled on.

''What, Jem? Oh… right… well, as it turns out, your partner was named for

a sort of a cousin… of his father's… Not so much because of their being relations, I gather, as because the elder gentleman took Francis Marion Harper and his siblings in when their parents passed on… and … ''

''And that elder gentleman was my father's father, Jacob Smith.'' Coop stated, having learned by this time that Adam could easily take all night explaining the matter.

''Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith.'' Adam, a completist to his core, finished. '' … Jemison, old man, where are you hurrying off to?'' the actor then asked as Jemmy made a beeline for the kitchen.

'' Oh… I'm just going to see if I can help Granma Celia's cousin Daisy. '' the Carolinian grinned and left the room.

''Uh-huh!'' Adam laughed. ''He's just going to see if he can help his grandmother's cousin out of something to eat before we get there! The man eats like a house afire, though you'd never know by looking.

''_Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith…Harper_?'' Slim repeated, wide eyed again.

''J E S ..S… ''

''Oh it could be worse.'' Coop grinned, now that Jemmy was out of earshot. '' Our family was purely murder when it came to naming young ones. Jemmy, for one, was named for at least two relatives, and out of respect for his grandmother Randolph's early upbringing as a Methodist. Jemison for his father and his father, Stephen for his father, Wesleyan for that Methodist part, Randolph for his momma's kin on her father's side … Singer.''

''So, Coop, as far as this family naming went, you pretty much lucked out?'' Slim couldn't quite stop himself from asking the older Texan.

''Some folks would say so, reckon.'' Coop nodded.

''Some folks would say so, I suppose.'' Jemmy answered sharply, before Coop could finish, reappearing in the doorway with Daisy on his arm. ''Supper's about ready, fellows, we came to tell you. And just in time, it seems to clarify this family naming matter for you, Slim. My older cousin from east Texas was named for his mother's father, the Reverend Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper, which I'd have to guess is enoughnames for just about anyone.''

''Nathaniel…'' Daisy repeated and let it go at that. ''Well that's a fine name, Coop. And your namesake was a Presbyterian minister, Jess told me.''

''He was that, we got sermons twice on Sundays, once at church and once before supper.'' Coop nodded. ''And speaking of supper, that roast you mentioned smells awfully good, Missus… Daisy. Jess did manage to let me know you're a real fine cook, he just didn't mention that mind-reading part.''

''I suppose I may have asked him not to.'' Daisy smiled. ''Gentlemen, if you'll come in to supper, now? And Slim, please give Mike a kind word or two, he helped set the table, after finishing all his lessons with me. He's bearing up really well and …''

''I'm on it, Daisy.'' Slim nodded, agreeing, and immediately strode into the kitchen ahead of the widow and their visitors. Mike needed to be treated like the little boy he truly was for a while, instead of 'the fellow who keeps this place runnin' so well', the rancher guessed and proceeded on that basis. In another couple of minutes, joking and playing at arm-wrestling, Slim had the boy giggling and grinning widely enough to light the small kitchen like daylight.

Mike's smiles were definitely, beneficially infectious, Jemmy noted, spreading quickly to both Slim and Daisy's sadder faces. It did all three family members a world of good to have time like this sharing and laughing together. They had new help now, and, they couldn't help feeling, new hope in searching for their missing son and brother. Now all they needed was to find Jess and bring him home, again. And they already knew, more than a month on, that it wasn't going to be easy.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Lodge at Widow's Retreat compound,

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

He hated feeling feeble, but that's just how he felt, spindly as a newborn foal, as he woke again, almost as much as he hated admitting he felt nearly helpless. But there was nothing for it. He could feel, but he could hardly think right now and he could hardly move. He'd lost his shelter, his safety, and his 'cotton-batting' fog. He couldn't remember when he'd felt so empty and so vulnerable ever before. He couldn't remember much besides feeling alone and doomed, and what was worse, feeling he was condemned by his own now-forgotten actions.

His captors, who he didn't know and hardly recalled now had been at him over and over again, with injected drugs and other nasty tricks, like dosing the water, gruel or broth they gave him with things that made their prisoner begin to wish he was only being poisoned. Some of these, he knew by all too well remembered taste and smell, were laudanum and other liquid forms of morphine. Those, as much as the prisoner hated the fact, he craved, he still needed, just to feel whole, any longer.

And that would have been bad enough, needing something pumped into his arm, or poured down his gullet on an all too regular basis. That would have been, and was enough to make him hate the need and himself for having it, to begin with. Because, each time he lost the drug's effects, something he hated just as much became clear to the now isolated, now wholly dependent man. What was real and true, or false, he couldn't tell anymore. What was solid, alive and trustworthy, or dreams, lies and delusions he couldn't truly say. And that growing, thriving bewilderment began to shake him like a fever.

It was the narcotics he'd been given, not any caring person, real or imagined, that had made him feel safe and warm and wrapped in cotton batting. And it was those same drugs, he understood much better than he wanted, that built profound confusion in his mind and senses. His present frailty would either grow worse, and kill him, or fade and let him fight back, again, the captive somehow knew. But regular, heavy morphine doses left him with very little else he could be certain sure of.

The other drug his tormentors forced on him, the prisoner only knew by the nightmare effects it had. First, it slowly filled him, top to toe, with icy cold he couldn't shake, but could definitely shake him, half to pieces. Then the chill settled in his gut and turned that already miserable organ purely inside out with twisting cramps and wrenching spasms. While that went on, the captive couldn't keep as much as a sip of water down, nor did he want to. Again and again he retched out all and any contents of his stomach, until he was exhausted and still plagued with dry heaving.

Next, and he was immensely grateful when this didn't always happen, the unknown drug sent pain in a searing, crooked wire, burning like a brand across the inside of his skull. Last, when all he could do was lay exhausted, damning himself for whatever he'd done to wind up in this much trouble, the prisoner found one last twist to this new torment:

All traces of the narcotics false comfort and warmth were gone out of his frame as if he never knew them. And the very thought of taking more, or having more forced on him, was enough to set him dry-retching again. The prisoner rested his face against his left arm, his only pillow, just lately, and shook his head, again. He was beginning to hurt, to shudder, to ache and to fear all of those things and more, again

The warm lethargy he'd clung to with all his failing strength was disappearing. The itching, trembling, chills, cramps and spasms were taking him over, again. The strange, floating sense of elation had given way to a far more familiar melancholy. He couldn't hold onto the weird, wonderful sensations of the past-untold time. He couldn't keep the pouring sweat, the pain or the dizziness at bay another instant. He couldn't seem to take hold of anything, including any idea of how long he'd been out, how much time he'd lost by now.

And there were no markers, no signs, no traces anywhere around him now to tell him by sight or sound what place he'd woken up in, now. One thing alone gave him the only clue he had, just to either side of him here, closer than the length of one outstretched arm, were cold, damp rough-set stone walls, and he lay on an equally cold stone-flagged floor.

This was no padded room, equipped for a madman, the whorling thoughts in his head told him. No, this was a one-man prison cell! So they'd drugged him again, so strongly he had no memory of walking, crawling or just being thrown into this grave-sized cell. They'd filled him with the damnable morphine he'd come to need, about a thousand times more than he wanted. And then they'd left him here, while all the false comfort the poisonous stuff offered streamed away like a waning moon. His prison now was no more than an almost airless, windowless, tiny isolation cell.

He was in solitary confinement, the chamber around him no higher, no longer and no wider across than was needed for a grown man to stand, turn around and then huddle once more against rough stone walls. Shuddering and retching, truly terrified now, the prisoner made himself open his eyes in the gloom, barely lifted by a narrow slit cut into the only door here. Most of his life he'd feared just such enclosed places.

And, which seemed strangest of all, he had no recollection of walking, climbing or otherwise being put in this chamber. Surely, as feeble as he felt, he'd have fiercely fought those who left him here. And just as surely, someone beyond these walls, outside that door had known exactly how this tiny space would work on him breaking him down even more, without their having to lift a finger.

_What a windfall for them!_ the prisoner bitterly considered. _What a bonus!_ _And if only they'd found out … however long ago they took me… I would've been buried alive in here all that much sooner! Or mebbee I have been in here all this time? Mebbee all the rest was my own purely crazed fantasy! Dang, Jess! Why can't you even tell what's real around you anymore these days? Jess? Who's Jess? Hey, wait a minute! I know my name! I didn't… I had no idea who I was, but now at least I know that much. I'm Jess Harper! I remember that and… a mortal lot besides! _

An old Mexican irrigation tunnel in east Texas now rose up around him in memory, dark and damp, and suffocating. Out of use for years, it had become a favorite hiding place and playground for Jess, Coop, Jemmy and a lot of other friends and cousins. Scrambling through there, they became _Conquistadores,_ Comancheros, Kiowa Apache, Jean Lafitte's pirates, Aztecs, and every other kind of larger than life figures they read about. Every spring and summer especially, when so many cousins were visiting Nathaniel Cooper and his family there, the boys' play went on in the tunnel.

Fall and winter, too, despite their parent's worried disapproval, Jess, Coop and the local boys continued on their youthful 'expeditions. That changed forever, and changed all the cousins and their friends' lives, in the winter Jess was eight years old. Going against both Frank Harper and Danny Smith's express orders, their eldest sons ran off to spend a rainy afternoon in their 'secret tunnel'. Robby Dudley, Jemmy Singer, Matty York, Ethan Drake, Eli Randolph, Coop and Jess were all disobeying their families dictates to play here, after part of the tunnel fell in during an early winter downpour. And they were all greatly enjoying their boyish mutiny, shouting and tussling up and down the remaining length of the structure.

Jess, Ethan and Robby, the three youngest of the adventurers, were also the

most daring, or so they hoped to prove to their older friends and cousins. They set themselves challenges their companions paid little heed to, and often surprised the other boys with the places they squirmed and wriggled into, the distances they tramped or the boyish treasures they uncovered. All the boys exploring the tunnels that day believed themselves, as boys always do, impervious to harm or hurt, invulnerable to danger, fear or other grown folks' limitations.

Then the rainy day turned turbulent, and the tunnels the boys played and climbed in resounded to the pounding rain and gusting winds of a storm blowing northwards from the Gulf. The earthen walls, some shored by huge clay pipes, some braced by rotting wooden beams, began to shift and slide in the section farthest from the main entry. And in an instant, with a roar like the cannonades they'd heard of from the Mexican War, fully half the decades- old tunnel collapsed.

Seven age-long hours later, Matty, Ethan, Jess and Jemmy were pulled from the debris, by anxious, loving, parental hands. All four boys survived, all were badly shaken, as were their older comrades. All were hugged and held and scolded, and rushed off to their homes and beds. Twenty some years later, Jess still shuddered, remembering the terrors he'd had ever since about close places.

And here he was again, shivering and shaking, locked inside a cell half as long as a church pew, and barely wider than a grave! On top of that, he was sick all through now, constantly dry-retching, almost glad there was nothing left in his gut to lose. But he couldn't keep warm, either. He'd lost all sense of ease and well-being, he shouldn't have had those things to begin with, a numbing certainty deep in his thoughts kept on saying.

So he wasn't safe a bit, or drifting anywhere, now, as the warmth he urgently, hungrily needed once more flowed away. He was caught here, helpless. He was trapped. No, this wasn't a trap he'd fallen into somehow. To think that was the same as saying he was not at fault here, or somehow blameless. And he knew, better than he knew anything now. He wasn't and never had been innocent. Nothing could be further from the truth. He didn't recall what he'd done, but neither could he shake the certainty that he'd done more than enough things wrong to deserve an awful lot of trouble.

Well, whatever he deserved, it wasn't going to happen while he was shut up here. And as for being shut up, that didn't appeal to the young Texan much, either. No, if he was going to pay for the wrongs he'd done, he was going to make himself heard, loud and clear, first. He was going to be anything but quiet, now. _Keep me quiet, is that it? Th' hell you say! _he thought, scowling._ I'll make enough noise to bring the Seventh Cavalry down from the Dakotas!_

''Hey! Hey, who's out there listening for me to wake up? Get on in here… no, get me outa here, there's no room for you in here!'' Jess began trying to shout, disgusted by the rasping weakness of the sound he produced, at first.

''C'mon, I'm awake now. So you can try your real fun games again! And first you'd better take me wherever you've stashed that fine lady. She's my friend, you see. I can't say as I know her name. But she's proved herself to be my friend. And I don't leave my friends where they can get hurt by any sick, strange bastards! Yeah, you folks are a whole lot of fun, around here, wherever th' devil here is! You're a real prize crew, aren't … '' Jess shouted and suddenly heard what he was saying as if in yet another memory:

''_Yeah, you're a real prize crew, aren't you?'' he'd snarled, as the men around him tried to grab his arms, his legs, or his feet again. '' Robbing defenseless women and then leaving them in the middle of nowhere, just to help you jump a fellow from behind? Is that what you do for a living, or just to get your fun?''_

''_Both.'' the rifle's wielder answered bluntly. But now, as Jess made another lunge towards the woman, another of his attackers, or maybe the same one, swung the rifle again and connected viciously with his left leg, well above the knee, then swung again and struck hard at the left side of his head, now. Either his head or his whole frame was spinning now. _

_He couldn't really tell, that last blow was somehow even more painful than the first, his head and his ears were still ringing. Once more, he went down, but kicking, flailing, cussing a blue streak, and hearing Slim say 'keep your eyes open on the road, Jess.' The left side of his head and his face was wet, and warm, not a good sign at all. But Jess couldn't' seem to raise his hand now to make sure he wasn't just sweating. He was struggling against what seemed like more and more rock hard fists and sharp toed boots all the time, dozens of them, it felt like, by now. Jess was on his face on the grass, and they were still getting their licks in._

_They got me pretty good, didn't they? Well, that's over, now. I'm gonna do the getting from here on out. _The prisoner decided, wincing at the returning memory of being attacked

''Hey, I'm still in here, y' know!'' the prisoner shouted again. '' And I'm waitin' for all y'all to come and play, some more. Only thing is, it'll be my game, this time! And you'd best let me know where you've put that lady, and who's got my horse! Because I'll be takin' both of them on outa here, right along with me, any time now! Well, c'mon, what're you waitin' for?''

''Nothing.'' Moray answered, opening the cell door. ''I'm entirely ready to conclude our dealings now, at long last. Or I will be, as soon as you imbibe this. It's time for your much needed treatment to continue.'' The Charleston native said, shoving a metal cup into Jess' hands.

Squinting in the sudden wave of light, and frowning at the tall, black haired man, Jess fought an urge out of nowhere to back away. Instead, jutting his chin and grinning tautly, the Texan began to push himself to his feet, despite the spinning in his head and the shakiness of his legs, both threatening to drop Jess back to the stone floor. The cup dropped without him even trying, though.

And if that bothered his captor, Jess could hardly raise the energy to care. He didn't want anything this icy sob considered 'treatment'. And not for an instant did the young Texan mean for this cold bastard to know how much he'd rather duck and run than take another step near him. Instead, Jess fixed his eyes on the older man's face, and studied it closely. His 'visitor' had a high forehead, and molded features, strange ice grey eyes, heavy brows and thick dark hair, as well as a substantial moustache.

'' I know you.'' Jess slowly, calmly told the Charleston native now. "You were wrong. I do remember you. I remember a lot of things, now. You were in Atlanta, after th' city fell in '64. You were dealin' with the Yankees, which

was bad enough, as the war was still on.

But you were dealin' on the black market, too. You were sellin' all kinds of goods, all sorts of supplies, and always to the highest bidder! An' we found you out, Aaron Caulder, me, an' Neddy… Neddy Morrissey. You were stealin' from your own people, back along the coast in South Carolina. You were stealin' and cheatin', and robbin' folks, makin' your damn black market profiteerin' money hand over fist back then!

We found you out, and we turned you in. But you took a powder… didn't you? You pretty much disappeared from Atlanta, just when even the Yankees were ready to do somethin' about your thievery! And you used some kind of cockamamie moniker… back then… Aaron an' me we figured it couldn't be the name that anybody, not even a fancy dressed fellow from back east could've been born with, Montaine… no, no, that ain't it… Montebello?

No, no it wasn't the name of Mister Jefferson's house, either… Montague, just like in one of them fancy stories… or plays or something… You had a lot of fun makin' that name up too, I'd be willin' to wager… Holland… Pedersen Collingsworth Montague. And I'm right, that ain't your real name now, is it?''

'Heydon Palmerston Catesby Moray, late of Charleston, at your service, sir. '' Moray said, sweeping a bow. ''Well, no, not actually at your service, Harper. Oh, and you needn't waste your time and energy waiting for me to confirm or deny your charges. There's no need of that now. You're patently insane, you see, and no one will believe a word you say.''

''I'm not crazed!'' Jess snarled, backing off from Moray. '' I'm not! And I'm not getting tangled up in your damn all confusions, either! You don't know the first thing about me, or my family. You pretty well proved that, with all your talk about my Granma Miri.

Yeah, I remember your lies and accusations real well, now! I remember you want me to believe I take after Mirielle Clement Harper, well, guess what, Moray? I'd be more than glad if that were so! She died in Mon'real, you got that part right. She died in a fire there, that's two you got. But somehow, somewhere you got the rest completely whopperjawed, six ways from Sunday!

My grandmother died tryin' to save kids in the same convent school she went to up there, years and years ago. She died tryin' to bring kids outa the schoolhouse when a fire started in th' half ruined old furnace they had! And the school bears her name to this day, because she gave her life for them! And all this I know because my Granpa Alex, and my Daddy were so proud of what she done, _they couldn't keep_ from tellin' the story.

An' they were danged sad about it too, that's another part of it you got half right and half wrong. Because they were sad she never saw or knew but one of her grandkids, my sister Francie. And they were sad because the rest of us grandkids never got to know her, either. I was two and a half when Granma Miri died, so I only know her through my Granpa and my Daddy. But they were never onct shamed of my Granma, you crazed bastard! Nobody who ever knew her even a bit would be! So there goes most of your damned lies and stories, right on out th' window!

You even tried, like a lot of other folks have, since I was a kid, to say our family should be shamed that Granma Miri was part French Creole. Well she was, Moray, that's so. And folks that think there's something shameful about it, are either crazed themselves or just plain ignorant. Granma Miri's people came to the French West Indies when her momma was just a tiny girl., and later they came up t' N'Olins.

An lots of the people there were called Creole, back then, meanin' they were a kinda higher class, not shopkeepers or teachers or artisans, but a kinda step up from them. So, you don't have that right, either. You're pretty well strikin' out here, in fact, Moray. Mebbee you should just give it up an' admit you don't know what th heck you've been jawin' about, all this while!

Mebbee you should just give this whole thing up now, so you can keep from havin' your head handed you on a silver platter when th' lady learns what you done here.'' Jess insisted, frowning and folding his arms as he finished.

''The lady?'' Moray echoed, shaking his mane of thick black hair. ''Oh, perhaps you have reference to the kindly, genteel, utterly compassionate woman who spent so much time at your bedside during the worst days and nights of your recuperation. Is that whom you refer to, Harper, the gentlewoman who tried her best to ease, to alleviate, or at least to modify your suffering prior to the most recent … complications in her schedule?

If so, that would be our late, lamented General Pascale's devoted widow: Madame Eugenie Isabelle Lisanor Pascale, nee Eugenie Morrissey of St. Bernard's Parish, Louisiana. You were in her much beloved younger brother's cohort during the late Conflict. Indeed, as I recall, it's more than likely you were assigned to young Captain Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey's unit.

You might even have had reference to him earlier… You and your rough-neck friends from Texas usually referred to him as 'Neddy', did you not?''

''She's… She's Neddy Morrissey's sister?'' Jess asked, cold from tip to toe with shock, knowing he'd gone from glaring to staring at Moray, now. ''She's Neddy Morrissey's sister 'Genie?''

''I believe that is what I just stated. And it is very likely the core truth of the matter presently awaiting final judgment here. However, you must deal with me, and not the Widow Pascale, at the present moment, Harper.'' Moray insisted.

''And just why would that be?'' Jess demanded. ''Why shouldn't I see her and talk to her if she knows I'm a friend of Neddy's? Why shouldn't she want to see me an' talk about him, Moray? An' just why should I believe anything you tell me? You're the one told me I'd be locked up for crazed or for killin' or I might just hang, not her!

You're the one who kept me trussed like a bird for the oven, not the lady! You're the one who keeps on pumpin me full of one kind of damn drug or another, not th' Widow! An' you're the one who dumped me in this cell, here, certain sure, not her, not ever! She never onct hurt me or did anything but try to stop you an' your damn all lyin!''

'' She never hurt you?'' Moray chuckled. '' How very amusing to hear you say that, Harper. It would seem then that you have yet to regain your full recollection. I will try to elucidate this for you, once you've had your scheduled treatment for the day, of course. Boys, if you will join us, and see that our young maniac has his proper dosage…Jaimey, Phillips, come in and make sure our patient receives his treatment as needed. We can't disregard the schedule that took so much time and planning to devise. The proper sequence for this young person's therapy must, and shall be maintained, else however will he obtain the looked-for benefit?''

''I ain't lookin' for any benefit from anything you've got, damn you!'' Jess snarled, and pushed himself away from Moray, back further in the cell. The tiny space was close enough with just him in it, with Moray's powerful figure added, the walls seemed about to close in. And then things got worse, just when Jess wasn't sure that could happen.

The tall, always silent mulattoes he'd only seen before attending the lovely, caring woman Jess thought sure he remembered, strode into the narrow space and pinned Jess against the back cell wall. It was all too easy for them, to stop Jess' kicking and thrashing. The young Texan was too sick and too used up to offer more than token resistance before Moray advanced on him and jabbed first one and then yet another syringe into Jess' left arm.

''Oh, you're concerned with what the device holds, this time, are you?'' Moray asked, laughing icily. '' It's another fascinating substance I recently read up on. It has … in all studies so far, a quite amazing mesmeric effect on the person who ingests it. But conversely, not a soporific one. Did you follow that ? No, I thought not. This compound, derived from a form of plant widely found in South America actually seems to stimulate the mind and imagination.

I've found its effects quite pleasurable, from time to time, myself. So, I know from my own experience, and from no little observation on other … patients that this substance will do anything but slow your thought processes as the narcotics tend to do. On the contrary, you should find yourself feeling somewhat restive, in another ten or fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes.

You may even feel rather agitated and disconcerted, but that should be a transient effect, really. After that, you should feel quite a bit more loquacious and amenable to resolving our business dealings. And then we'll go back to our little discussion regarding your future and your past. _Abientot,_ Harper. '' Moray said and once more turned away.

''I ain't gonna be amenable nor talkative with you, Moray, not ever!'' Jess called out furious with Moray, but pleased to find himself speaking more or less clearly. Whatever they'd stuck in his arm this time was making Jess feel as if they'd dusted him with itching powder, inside and out. And he wanted to talk to the South Carolinian, sure. Right now, Jess wanted to very much blister the bastard's ears with his honest opinion of him.

''You were a lyin', sneakin', thievin' coward back in Atlanta, and I have t' figure you haven't changed a bit since then! What other kinda man is so much afraid of a fair fight that he's got to lock folks up, or dope 'em up, or call 'em crazed b'fore he'll even get down to cases with 'em?

What other kinda man, if that's not an insult to the whole, male race to call you that, uses sick, wounded boys, or thugs he don't allow to say a single, solitary word to do his dirty work for him? A weakling, that's what! A spineless, low, craven, dastard, that's what!'' Jess shouted, his voice and ability to make sense again exhilarating him, his anger driving both.

''You're afraid to so much as talk to me if I'm awake an' lucid, aren't you, Moray? You're afraid to so much as look at me, when the damn drugs aren't givin' you th' upper hand! Ain't that so? An' you're afraid th' lady, th' Widow, or anybody else might hear you lyin' to me, ain't you? She wouldn't believe anything you said for so much as a damn minute! An' like I already mentioned, I don't believe a thing you say, myself!''

''Ah but there is precisely where you seem to have quite thoroughly misapprehended what I've told you, Harper. '' Moray said, turning back to sneer at the Texan. Jess knew he'd touched a nerve in this ice-man, though, as he could plainly see the Carolinian's grey eyes almost twitching with anger.

''Yeah, just how's that, exactly?'' Jess demanded glaring up at Moray and wishing heartily he could knock his tormentor flat. In fact, with every second that passed, Jess felt more and more aggravated by this man, his silent helpers and the whole baffling dilemma he just woke up to, once again.

'' That is because it signifies exactly, absolutely nothing, nothing whatever to me, whether you accept what I say or not. You, are, after all an inmate in this small establishment, not a warder, and certainly not a physician or administrator. So, what you do or do not believe is, to say the least, a matter of questionable importance. Therefore, no one, in fact, is likely to take anything you have to say as having any weight or significance whatever, I'd have to think. You are, as I've noted on more than one occasion, my man, patently, violently, and in fact, criminally insane.'' Moray declared

'' I'm no such thing and you damn well know it! And I ain't no one's man but my own and I ain't crazed, either!'' Jess insisted, fighting back the racketing, demoralizing fear Moray's words raised again, in his mind and spirit. ''I told you, Moray, I remember a lot more now than I might've just lately. I remember you, you sick bastard, comin' at me from behind with your danged rifle butt connectin' with my head! An' it's true I was pretty well out of it for a time, after that happened. But I'm not finished, not by a long shot, no sir! An' I'm not quittin', either! That's not what I do, Moray!''

'' Is that so?'' Moray sneered, as Jess stumbled backwards, feeling the new

dosing chill him from his core on out. The former prosecutor knew he might have admired the young Texan's pure bravado, stamina and determination, under other circumstances, given other conditions. Now Harper was a damnable nuisance he longed to simply be rid of once and for all.

'' I would have to think at this point that whether or not you acquiesce in all this remains very much to be seen, my fine young lunatic. Now, to get back to the question of the lady you so greatly admire. At present she's greatly disturbed and entirely occupied elsewhere on this property. Crucial family matters that have gone waiting, that have indeed hung fire since the last autumn of the Conflict now demand her full attention.

She has put these matters off to watch over your recuperation as long as was possible. But now she's quite well aware that a genuine, final resolution is quite sorely needed. You're being orphaned at such a young age, I'd have to imagine you don't entirely understand such familial emotions and the obligations that attend them.

_'' Bein' orphaned at such a young age surely beats bein' a total bastard, don't it?'' _Jess thought, glaring at Moray, and shook his head. '' Don't… talk … bout my … family. Don't. Ever.''

''Threats of violence, after all the fine times we've had together, Harper?'' Moray laughed coldly. ''Threats of bodily harm, to say the least, if I don't acquiesce now? What makes you so entirely certain you want the answer to that first question? What makes you think the lady in question wishes to be in your company, ever, much less accompany you, anywhere at all?''

'' 'M gonna … get her… away … from you. So… you …won't … hurt her. An'

if you … have… If you hurt her…'' Jess growled, the effort of doing that wearing on him more than he would let Moray see or hear, now.

''Oh very well, if you insist on being so tiresomely aggressive.'' Moray sighed. ''You are presently occupying one room in one suite in one of 'the lady's' many, many properties. This structure is, in fact, just beneath a hunting lodge built on that same property. And approximately one hundred yards from here is another of her, let me think, yes, another of her dozen mansions, that is, on this side of the Mississippi river.

That is where you would find the widow Pascale just now, if you were strong enough to leave that cot without aid, and without falling. And if you did, you would find her entirely well, except that she is presently deep in conference with her tribunal. They are, as I know because I was attending their meeting less than a quarter hour past, discussing the charges she has brought against you. Charges _in the matter of the wrongful death_ of her beloved younger brother, Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, the Second.''

Jess knew he was staring at the taller man now, certain Moray was lying. There was no way the gentle, caring, lovely woman he remembered watching over, watching for him, reading to him, constantly easing him… could turn against him. She couldn't. She'd said more than once she was glad to know him… glad to know Jess wasn't … who or what she expected. She wanted him well again, and maybe in some warmly sisterly way, she'd begun to like him…

''Liar!'' Jess rasped and wildly, uncontrollably, swung at the older man, missing him completely, and nearly falling to the floor, again. '' You… I … r'member… you nearly cracked my skull open with your damn rifle butt!… You, an' some of your ham- ham handed friends… a… at a lakeside… An' all th' while …I was tryin' my level best just to help her… ou came at me!

But th' lady… th' widow-lady, she… never onct… hurt me! 'specially when… you didn't… want … she hel-helped me!'' Impelled by fury and fear and pure adrenalin, Jess went on talking, as if a floodgate burst inside him.

''Ah, there you are again, insisting she never harmed you.'' Moray laughed and pushed Jess back onto the cell's floor, chuckling dryly.

'' Well, we can't continue with this discussion while you are so dangerously agitated, now can we, Harper? Phillips, Jaimey, if you will see to what's needed here before we continue, and at once, please. '' Moray ordered, not even looking at Jess again. Immediately, without speaking a word, one young servant appeared on Jess' right, the other on his left. Then Jaimey pushed Jess back onto the cot, holding the young Texan down by his shoulders, tying a tourniquet of some sort around Jess' arm. Now Phillips lifted a syringe from somewhere Jess couldn't see, and checking its contents, jammed the needle into the Texan's left arm.

Jess swore a blue streak all the while they dosed him again, hating that he almost wished it was more of the morphine and not some other compound. Whatever it was, Jess could only tell it made him shake as if with a high fever just at first and then knocked him flat on his back, his legs giving up all their remaining strength to cramps and spasms. This wasn't the narcotic then, Jess just barely managed to think as the cramps and seizing moved up his frame and doubled him over, with pain and sickness.

This was another of Moray's little tricks in a hypodermic. And Jess knew he wasn't winning this skirmish, either. He was slipping backwards, losing all the clarity of speech and sight and sound and thought the other dosing seemed to give him. He was losing his handholds too in memory and self-knowledge, losing his sense of where he was or who stood over him now.

''Leave us, now, boys.'' Moray told his servants and silent as ever, Jaimey and Phillips were gone, walking out to wait outside the cell, again.'' Oh, no, you needn't be concerned that I am drugging you, Harper. Well, not with anything to increase your dependence, let us say. '' Moray told Jess, who stood between the tall, strong young men, almost leaning on one and then the other.

''The compound in this device is wholly different in nature from the narcotics you've been given, for the most part. It will in fact, once more clear the remnants of your most recent morphine injection entirely from your system. And that is only to the good, as I see it. We surely want you hale and healthy and clear minded, don't we, Harper?

We surely want you possessed of the clearest possible mental status, don't we, when it comes time to face your judges. Please don't be apprehensive. This is a newly developed compound but I'm told it carries little danger for the recipient… Well, except for one potential reaction. And my observation of your treatment process to date does not indicate anything beyond a mild sort of vascular trouble, an insignificantly sized bout of apoplexy.

But nothing to bother an otherwise healthy young person like yourself for any length of time, I'd say. You experienced some numbing, or some increased confusion on a transient basis, and recovered your faculties completely within a brief… a relatively brief length of time after the last injection.

You likely also found yourself suffering some slight nausea, a bit of dizziness, and minor cramping… Those were simply part of the natural process this compound … encourages, the natural process by which the your fine, strong young frame and sound young mind rid themselves of the narcotic's effects, entirely. Of course, we only administered one dose on those previous occassions, Harper. More than that, as you've now received may indeed prove more injurious, after all.''

'' You mean that it might kill me. If it's the second lot of junk you foisted on me before, it nearly did that, already.'' Jess answered, grimly.

''No. No, that's not what my source told me.'' Moray answered. ''On the other hand, you're not at the top of your form, just now, are you? That being the case, you might want to dictate a last will, or settle your affairs,? Oh, well, never mind, you don't really have anything of the kind, now, no property to bequeath, no inheritance to secure for the progeny you'll never have, in any case. But if there should be some few possessions of some slight sentimental value… Your finely conformed, strong, young bay gelding, for example, I can surely see to all the necessary details. So, please do let me know, Harper. I am, after all, a well experienced, highly skilled attorney.''

''You don't have my horse, Moray. You couldn't keep hold of Traveler, that much I know for certain.'' Jess boasted, not sure at all what might have happened to his equine best friend. '' You must've found this out by now, I'd think… But if you didn't, pay attention! I trained that boy from the time he could stay upright on all four hooves to throw anybody but me right off his back! 'sides, a Texas horse is real particular anyway, who he lets straddle him. An' a good thing too, cos in Texas we only _hang_ a rustler, _but we shoot a horse thief dead on sight!''_

''Yes, I don't doubt that for a moment, truly. However, since you refuse my legal services, I'll go back to the matter we were disputing. You see I have now concluded, Harper, that in one respect, at least in one respect, you have managed to be truthful on most occassions. You have not recovered your memory fully. That much is more than evident to me, now. And I mean to assist you with that recovery now, so we may proceed to other, more intricate matters with some semblance of the celerity I always heard cavalrymen saying they valued so very highly.''

''Celer… '' Jess repeated. ''Oh, yeah. That's a 50 cent word I guess for makin' sure you make your best time when you're ridin' screen for some of the boys who got around by shanks' mare, or when you're tryin' to ride circles around one Yankee army or another… yeah. Only thing is, why should I believe what you're gonna tell me I should remember?

You haven't been treatin' me so awfully nice, just lately, Moray. For one thing I'm getting' really tired of bein' treated like a dang pin cushion! For another, I told you to keep your mouth off my family! Now, if you can manage this without druggin me or lyin' about my kin, mebbee we'll get somewhere. ''

''A moratorium then on the drugs, then? And one on … referring to your relatives? I see. I will take both suggestions under advisement.'' Moray chuckled.

''You'll take those suggestions and put 'em into practice on the double quick, Moray. Or you can go back to doin' whatever else you please, I won't be listenin' or answerin' much less believin' anything you have to say.'' Jess answered, sticking his chin and his courage out a mile.

'' Well, as an experiment then, we'll attempt to deal with the issues at hand under your two conditions, for a certain length of time. Now then, you have said you now recall our meeting at the lakeside, which gratified me in a certain way, I will tell you, Harper, after so many years of separation, following the Conflict. Pray tell, then, what more have you recollected from that afternoon, my man? Anything at all, Something? Nothing?''

''She was sittin' beside her upturned carriage, just a little lightweight kinda gig.'' Jess answered, charily watching first Moray and then each of the servants in turn. ''She was just sittin in the grass there, lookin an' soundin' real confused. I wanted t' help her. An' I told her that. She was… She looked scared an' mebbee hurt… I told her I'd get th' carriage righted, or just get her up on Trav… on my horse and get her to a doc…

That's th' most part of it, then you come at me, along with some other scum… An' after a while I woke up here, I guess… an' th' widow-lady was sittin an' readin' to me… An' then you showed up again an' got her real upset an' mad an' that don't go down so well with me, Moray, upsettin' a real fine lady like her. Figure you should know that.''

''Ah, I see.'' Moray nodded, and looked as if he'd scowl at Jess any minute. Then he shook his head and smiled so coldly Jess would have gladly traded for a scowl. '' Well you are missing some rather crucial elements, then. I can help with that, and I will.The lady, Madame Pascale, sought you out, Harper, with my own assistance, and some few others', from the day six years past, when she learned of her younger brother's tragic passing. She blames you for his death, in fact. She sought your presence here as her captive. She sought her revenge and recompenses from you, in particular, in the matter of young Master Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, the Second's death.

And I, my young hothead, I assisted 'the lady' to the best of my ability in that 'grand endeavor'. We have traveled from old New Orleans to this western wilderness seeking you, my friend. And I have made myself quite indispensable to her, such that she now relies on me, more than any other living person.

And under her instructions, by her orders Harper, I found you for 'the lady'. And _with her full participation and collaboration,_ I set up that roadside ambush for you. 'The lady', who most of her acquaintances normally refer to as 'the Widow', put on her deepest mourning outfit that afternoon, and sat beside that copse of willows, and waited, as did I, myself. She and I waited there for you, while her employees upturned the phaeton. And when you approached on the road above the lake, she began to cry out. And when you rode close enough, she began to weep, calling out for her brothers.

And when you dismounted, 'just to help her'. She distracted you just long enough for her brave band, her 'prize crew' to come at you there. In other words, she made of herself the lure with which we ensnared and incapacitated you that day! Whatever else you disbelieve now, Harper, I must insist you believe that is what happened. In other words, you are being held here, as you have been since that moment, on 'the lady's' word and by her orders.''

Jess closed his eyes now, against the roiling turmoil in his thoughts, and worsening whirling the room seemed to be doing around him. His memory was showing him the woman he'd come to love, almost with a schoolboy's devotion, gowned and veiled in black, bizarrely sitting alone in a grassy swale by a lakeside. His recollection included her plaintive cries, and distraught, oblivious manner. She hardly seemed to know where she was, or who she spoke to. She hardly seemed real… more like a sorrowing vision… a ghost not yet laid.

_Neddy died? Neddy… An' she's his sister… that raised him? And she blames me?… Ah, G-d! I didn't even know he'd passed on! What happened to him? What … Why didn't she … She never said a word about him to me! Why? Why wouldn't she tell me, if she believed that? Why wouldn't she try to scratch my eyes out, or … hurt me worse than that? She's only tried to help me get better, hasn't she? _Jess asked himself, and wondered if he wanted to know the answers.

'' Then… I … That's all th' more…why I need t' see … see her.'' Jess finally said, more quietly but no less determined. . '' … help her… under… stand… it… She… needs t' hear me. She needs t' tell me… this herself… an' hear me out… So you… you take me … take me to her, now.''

"No.'' Moray said, shaking his head. '' I'm not about to allow such an obstinate fool to disturb the Widow with his wild, self-serving stories. Not at this late date, Harper. What I will do is to complete your understanding of The Widow's position in all this. You see, I long since helped her to reach her own understanding and her present policy, as regards the unruly, unprincipled young men who pretended to befriend her tragic brother.''

''Her brother… Neddy was my brother, too! We were all of us brothers by th' time we came to th' fightin' around Atlanta, damn you!'' Jess scowled.

'' An' you'd have some understandin' of how that was, if you'd done any fightin' back then! Figure that means you never so much as put on a uniform, unless it was to wear _for a damn all costume ball,_ ain't that so, Moray?''

''That does not and cannot pertain whatsoever to the matter presently in question, Harper!'' Moray snarled and Jess knew once again he'd prodded a sore spot, if not a whole, entire open wound on the Carolinian's ego.

''Nor am I here to be demeaned, insulted or ordered about as if you were in command. The matters at hand, the issues that have gone waiting during your recovery are your actions, your deeds, your intent and your competence to be judged on those very things, regarding the death of Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, the Second of that name, of St Bernard's Parish.

Following those decisions, we will needs must decide the consequences of your actions, or as you might better understand, the sentence you will receive. And you've repeatedly demonstrated a deep-seated reluctance to broach that subject. Why would that be, I wonder? Are you afraid of what will be revealed if you enterin that discussion? Are you perhaps concerned now, Harper, that your own blameworthiness in this matter will be, finally exposed?''

''No, damn you, I didn't even know th' boy passed on! So, why don't you go on an' tell me what in blue blazes happened to my friend, Neddy Morrissey? You tell me how he came t' die, and how that has to do with me. An' if you're lucky, maybe I'll take what you're sayin'… with a barge-load of salt, that is!'' Jess jeered, wondering why he felt more and more anxious, now.

'' Very well.'' Moray agreed, once more smiling a little too smugly for Jess' liking. ''You may recall that during the withdrawal of General's Hood's troops from the region around Atlanta, young Edward Denys took quite a serious wound to his right arm. I say you only may recall that event, as you were critically wounded then, yourself. Several of your young cohorts at that time were grievously wounded, as I believe the records clearly state. Is that accurate, so far, Harper?'' The Charleston native asked.

''So far, yeah. Keep it goin'.'' Jess demanded.

''Being a gently raised young person, an honorable, loyal, and valiant soul, and one of the few surviving junior officers in your little band, Master Edward Denys declined to make known his critical condition. He fully intended to remain with his, however diminished command, until the bitter end. At any rate, that is what he stated in his journal from that desolate time. Does that sound correct as well, according to your remembrance?'' Moray paused, waiting again, in a way that bothered Jess more and more for the Texan to answer.

'' Yeah. Neddy didn't want any of the boys to know how badly hurt he was. But we found out, anyhow. '

Cause the boy just plumb fell over, half unconscious one evenin', when he was goin' to take his turn at the skirmish line.'' Jess agreed, feeling worn out again, as if suddenly drained of even the antsy energy he'd had a few minutes ago. ''An' that's when th' boy got purely mulish on us!''

''Now that is part of the record I don't seem to have in any great detail. Explain that last comment to me, won't you?'' Moray asked, chuckling.

''Why th' devil should I?'' Jess demanded, using the last scrap of angry strength he seemed to have just now. '' You said you knew th' whole danged story! Well, do y' or don't y' know what happened before we went back into Atlanta?''

All trace of humor left Moray's face now. And Jess fought an urge to cringe when the older man turned on him in a fury. '' I know all I need to know of what befell Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, the Second of that name!'' the Charlestonian shouted, raging. ''I know his every word, his every fear, his every hope, and every iota, every instant of his final, despairing moments on this earth, you blackguard! I was honored with, I was bequeathed the tragic boy's complete journals from that period! I was the only one he trusted with them at the last!

And why should he not, when I, Heydon Palmerston Catesby Moray of old Charleston was the poor wretch' only remaining confidant? I was the one he gave his last testament to, Harper! I was the one who watched the last breath of life leave his wasted, consumptive frame! I held the poor lad's all but skeletal hand to the last, in a French Quarter bordello, less than half a mile from the family home he knew he would never return to!

So, do not seek to challenge me on the matter of that suffering youth's ruin! I know every moment of it's ending, and every instant, every place and every hand in it's beginnings! I know and I told the Widow Pascale how it came to be that her precious, younger brother died in a shameful, appalling place, almost within reach, almost within sight of their beloved Saint Bernard's Parish!

I know and I told her, and her twin, almost as soon as it happened, six

years ago. I told them their cherished younger brother died desolate and despairing because his supposed friends, during the Conflict, you and your wild, unruly, uncaring cohort, conveyed and then callously abandoned him into the hands of every true Southron's greatest enemies, the eternally to be damned Yankees!''

''You… you told her that?'' Jess heard himself nearly shrieking, swinging wildly at Moray, now, and falling back onto the cot, again. '' You're completely crazed! We never did anything like that t' Neddy! He wouldn't even go for treatment, if th' fellows as bad hurt didn't' go on in to th' city with him! He wouldn't even let us put it t' th' vote, th' way we'd always done till that time!

Th' boy pulled rank on th' whole danged lot of us, seein' he'd been brevetted-Captain! He knew he'd die, else, and he still wouldn't back down! But you told her we made him go there? You told her … we took Neddy there? What next? Did you try tellin' Neddy's sister we were th' ones that pumped him full of morphine?

Damn you, Moray, Neddy was our brother, as much as hers, by that time! He rode and fought and laughed and wept alongside every boy amongst us! He'd saved our lives and we'd saved his a thousand times by then and only wanted to do it one more time! He made the least of us feel like the best and th' best of us understand we were all brothers! But you, you told his sister we all but killed him?''

''Whyever should I keep the truth from the dear, sorrowing lady?'' Moray demanded.

''You shouldn't! But that's nothing near th' truth of the matter! An' why, if you give a flyin' fig for her or Neddy would you lie about it? ' Jess answered, struggling as the pair of silent servants kept him down, kept him from lunging at Moray again. The Texan shook his head and frowned and suddenly remembered something more. Coldly angry himself now, Jess turned back to scowl at Moray. '' We found you out, that's why you told her! Aaron, Neddy an' me, we found out you got rich sellin' contraband, and dealin' with the 'eternally t' be damned Yankees'!

That's it, ain't it, damn you? That's what all this is! You don't think Neddy got abandoned! You don't think me an' th' other boys in H Company harmed a hair on Neddy Morrissey's head! An' you don't think I'm crazed a bit! You don't, do you? Answer me, old man! You know I'm not crazy! You know that, don't you?'' Jess goaded his tormentor.

''What I think hardly signifies here, Harper, in comparison to what The Widow believes you did to her lost brother.'' Moray said, without answering the question. '' And, frankly she believes what I tell her, as she has for six years time now. She believes she was bereft in an extraordinarily untimely and dreadful manner of her younger brother.

She believes young Edward Denys would have come home to N'Orleans, to Saint Bernard's Parish, to the family at home there, but for the interference of a luckless band of ruffians and rowdies from the Texas wilderness! And she is entirely certain those same hooligans made certain her brother was in no condition to refuse the needed, but very much unwanted treatment. Beyond that, I am well aware, and have assured the Widow Pascale, that brevet-Captain Morrissey, as he was when Atlanta fell, greatly feared and resisted the use of the narcotics the Yankee medics all but forced upon him. While in that receiving hospital in Atlanta, he made every possible attempt to refuse any such substances at all.

And after all, Master Edward Denys was only twenty years of age, that autumn, he probably still felt some of the invulnerability all young men and youths lay claim to. By that time, the valiant young Captain had already known too many of our brave boys in grey who either died from those dangerous compounds, or languished long afterwards in a hapless kind of limbo. But, he'd also known a great many other valiant Confederate wounded who died in excruciating pain, for the lack of just those compounds.

But, finally, it came down to the fact that the amputation of his right arm was all that would save him. Nor could such an operation hope to succeed without proper instruments and medications. And there was, fortunately for all the boys in that establishment, no dearth of medical supplies, that season. So, the brave young cavalryman accepted his surgical maiming, and as time went on, more and more of the painkillers he so badly needed. And with that help, he lived on… six years more. '' the former Charleston attorney said.

''And prob'ly wisht he hadn't.'' Jess muttered, sadly.

'' Well, that's entirely possible, I suppose. The death certificate was written out in only the vaguest possible terms, you see. The family deserved to be spared the more unhappy details, was the thought, at that time. But the fact of the matter is, he died in one of the cribs off Bourbon Street there, indigent and dependent on the once helpful compounds. And some have even suggested his death was by his own volition.

Do you understand this now, Harper? Do you? The Widow believes, and not without reason, I would say, that her younger brother would have lived to come home, that he'd still be living now, without your interference. The Widow believes her younger brother would not have died, or at least not in the doleful manner it happened, had it not been for his cherished young friend from east Texas. And thus, she blames you for the utterly untimely demise of young Master Edward Denys. She's simply far too much of a gentlewoman to lay those charges on a man not yet fit to answer them.

Jess felt his whole frame slump, and his legs start shaking, so they couldn't have held him upright if he'd tried it. The taller man's words came like one blow after another. The lady… the Widow… hated him. She blamed him for Neddy dying. She'd come after him, for that bleak reason and no other.

She'd done all … her smiling, caring, talking, tending… for a man she despised. She'd set a trap, and she lied to him, gulled him… all this while. And she wasn't entirely wrong in what she thought of Jess Harper, was she?

Evoked by Moray, his own memories from the last fall and winter of the war came to life within Jess' mind again. All the desperate fighting around Atlanta, all the dismal days of that summer and autumn spread their bloody colors wherever he looked, once more.

And in just one of those frenzied firefights, another nine H Company boys were killed, another fifteen wounded. That left them even fewer choices, try to run and keep on skirmishing with Sherman's marcher's, try to reach one of their own struggling field hospitals, or take the boys who still might be saved to hospitals now run by Yankees, inside the fallen, razed old jewel of a city. Then nineteen years old, Jess Harper argued, stormed and tried, without success to fight his young Lieutenant Morrissey's decision on the matter. Neddy wouldn't take no for answer then, any more than he had, ever.

And then Neddy made matters worse, saying he wouldn't go to get his badly shattered left arm treated himself, unless Jess, and Aaron, and the three other critically wounded boys went with him. That pretty much made the younger boys decision for them. To save their lives, Neddy made it plumb impossible they wouldn't go with him back inside Atlanta. To save his life, his young friends and brothers at arms went with him. And he saved their lives. And they thought they'd returned the favor.

''We thought… I thought… Neddy'd make it, surely.'' Jess muttered, more to himself than to Moray or anyone else who might be listening.

'' He… Neddy only looked like the next strong puff of wind would bowl him over. Nothing did, and … I … didn't think anything ever, ever could! Neddy, rode like a Kiowa Apache… like the wind! He rode better n' some of the boys, better than a lot of the boys, at least at first, truth be told. …I told you, he saved… my life… an' a lot of others. And the way he could ride and use that sword of his… And the way he could make up a plan or a dispatch or a code outa thin air… And the way he could make … a friend ''

''Yes, yes, so I've heard, a few thousand interminable times, from her.'' Moray scowled. '' I cannot tell you how very weary one can become of hearing the endless praises of the late, lamented hero sung! But you, you have reached some measure of comprehension, now, have you not, Harper? You no longer seek to question the extent of your transgressions against her, do you?''

'' Neddy might've lived… At least he may not've… died that way… No wonder she hates me. No wonder.'' Jess answered, in a shocked whisper.

''For once, it seems we are in complete agreement. Surely you can comprehend how excruciating this entire matter is for her. Surely you understand this has all been quite the ordeal for her. Such an action might satisfy your own conscience, Harper, but would only serve to grieve her. She has a deeply compassionate spirit, as you've seen. How could she bear to look on the 'boy' she blames for her brother's death? She is a truly gently bred Southron lady, after all. So you must surely understand why' it would be a terrible thing now to impose your presence on her. ''

''Sure.'' Jess snarled, still trying to keep his head from spinning wholly off his shoulders. He was in deep trouble here, and keeping his head seemed a good idea, if he could only manage.

'' Well that's remarkable.'' Moray chuckled. '' Apparently even a Texas ruffian, it seems can see how dreadful this whole business is for the Widow, now. She's struggled with the entire dilemma for so long, now. Surely she's earned some peace and mercy, at this point. And, after all, there is the whole question of your own instability. Surely she shouldn't be put at risk that way, Harper, don't you agree?''

''My… my what?'' Jess demanded, exhausted and shuddering, as Moray turned to smile icily in his direction. '' No! I already told you, I know as well as you do, I'm not crazy!''

''You know that as well as I? Truly?'' Moray laughed. ''Then you don't know that at all, my fine, young maniac, do you?''

''You can just quit it. Now, Moray. Just quit. Th' lady… th' Widow already knows I would never harm her, no matter what. She already knows I wouldn't. That's not what I do, and she already knows it.'' Jess insisted.

''Because, naturally enough, you've developed a certain attachment, certain feelings for her, is that it?'' Moray probed, making Jess want very much to slug him.

'' You told me yourself she's widowed!'' Jess growled, to cover his own revived confusion and worry. '' An' I'm kinda young for her tastes, don't you think? An' I don't go after ladies without their say-so! She's had a rough time of it, that's certain sure. I can get that, easy. An' like I said, I wouldn't ever harm her. I …I feel bad for her losses, I think she's' had a danged hard time, an' I can figure how she might … want some of her own back. Who th' devil wouldn't? I was never raised to take things out on a lady, an' I won't do that now! An' like I said, she already knows that!''

''Ah, I see.'' Moray repeated. '' You don't 'take things out on' people

you respect and sympathize with. You don't… 'go after' people who you

can understand as having troubles you can understand. You have a compassionate soul, then. I see. And rather a ghastly headache, just now,

if I'm not mistaken. Am I, Harper?"'

Jess said nothing in reply, and not because he had no answer for the tall, black haired man, now standing outside his cell. Before the young Texan could say anything, an invisible vise encircled his head and white hot pain lanced through it. The cold in his arm was racing through the rest of his frame.

Jess felt almost torn in half now, between the airless, freezing pressure in his chest and the pain like a branding wire, cutting across his mind. He was on the floor again, now, face down and writhing. Surely, the pain or the lack of air and warmth would kill him at any moment.

'' M-M-Mike… Shoulda told you… Tiger… shoulda… how… you 'mind me

of … Alec… an' sometimes… Danny… shoulda told … that's not why … not why.. I … love… y'all…. I … love… you … all… f' always… '' 'Jess whispered, somehow forming the boy's name on his lips and Mike's image in his stroke ridden brain. Then an empty, numbing darkness took him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. There was nothing.

''Yes, yes, enough of all that.'' Moray sighed, and handed Phillips another syringe, this one carrying a massive morphine dosage. '' Well, I see the slight possibility of a stroke was, after all a real potential in this case. If Harper survives this, he'll want this bolus rather badly, I should think. And considering what's coming, there's no reason the poor, mad wretch shouldn't have it.

Fear not, Harper, I shall return to continue on with your treatment, just as soon as you are ready for the next phase to begin. Oh, you needn't worry on that score, either. The boys will be here, keeping you under close watch, and are under orders to make certain I know when you are … once more at least somewhat competent to go on.''Oh, you needn't be troubled, Harper.'' Moray told his prisoner, as the young Texan's head lolled backwards. '' We will surely come back to this highly entertaining and … for you I suppose, informative discussion. We must do so, at least once before our business can be concluded. I had thought to get this done and over in one more session.

Now I see your perverseness will require my efforts in at least one more of these … rousing encounters. However, as you might be disappointed to hear, were you capable of hearing me at all, just now, that I have many duties requiring my fullest attention that connect only tangentially with our business. And so I leave you in the benevolent care, and under the watchful gaze of Jaimey and Phillips here.

Do not be alarmed if they have no conversation to offer you, Harper. These fine upstanding boys have never spoken a word in my hearing, either. A former master of theirs, so it seems, took a fancy to the ancient Chinese aesthetic of always marring creations or creatures which would otherwise approach physical perfection. He had a gifted surgeon destroy their vocal chords when both boys were quite small children, in their infancy still, as I understand it. They subsequently learned many and various ways of communicating as called on.

Both Phillips and Jaimey were taught a kind of language made of manual lettering and signs, first developed by the Cistercian order of monks, in late medieval France and Spain. And they're really quite eloquent in their use of it. Never fear, we shall see one another at least once more before we've quite fulfilled our oddly tied destinies in all this.

You've been a great help in the accomplishment of my own destiny, Harper. So it seems only right and just I should help you to accomplish yours… be it at the end of a noose, or in some such isolated place as this, remains to be seen, I would hazard. Yes, what will finally become of you, my young maniac, certainly remains to be decided. _Abientot_.''


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Sherman Ranch, 12 miles outside Laramie,

Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

A new pattern in the search for Jess now developed and spread out east from the Sherman ranch, along the main roads and some of the byways the young Texan might have taken weeks before. Mort Corey or some of his recent deputies, along with neighbors and friends from Laramie came out to join Slim or to spell him on ranch chores or relay duties, so he could ride out with Coop. The other newcomers, Jemmy and Adam took the task of looking with fresh insight they hoped, along the trails, up into the hills between Laramie and Cheyenne, and up into the Laramie range. Or they broke up and rode with groups of local searchers, taking advantage of their new perspective and the others' long time experience there.

And over Daisy's protests, Mike organized his school friends, during daylight hours only, and when their lessons and home chores were done, into junior search parties. Slim at first agreed with Daisy on this, and said he couldn't permit it. But Mike was as determined as the rest of his family and with his teacher and some of the other parents helping, the kid's patrol prevailed.

What surprised the grown folks, a great deal more than it did Mike's 'team' as he began to call it, emulating Jemmy and Adam's way of talking, was the perseverance the boys showed and the handful of clues they found. The former kept them searching every day for the next fortnight, the latter did that as well, and came from places the grown men searching couldn't as easily or agilely get in and out of.

Mike took to Jemmy and Coop like a duck to water, realizing they were there because they cherished Jess as much as he did. But Adam seemed to fascinate Mike and the other school age searchers. They thought him at first to be merely a 'real back east fancied up dude'. But the actor agent knew better and was soon proving himself not only funny and resourceful, with lots of astonishing 'magic tricks' and stories to tell them, but readily adapting to and comfortable with their rougher way of living.

''I grew up pretty rough, myself, but in a very different place, Michael.'' Adam explained. ''I was born and raised in the City… San Francisco, or more precisely, in the Tenderloin district there. And you had to be tough, to make any sort of a living in that part of the City, you see, because it … wasn't the fancy part at all. There was always a fight going on somewhere, or, if not, there was always someone ready to get a fight going.

So, by the time I was just about your age, Michael, I had to learn how to defend myself from the older, bigger fellas. And my friends and I had to learn how to get away from them if they were too much bigger. In other words, we learned to run away or to trick them right back, when they were grown folks, coming around to trick and to steal from us kids, because we looked like really easy marks.''

''So Adam learned how to run like the wind, and for those times when he ran right into a brick wall or a pair of brass knuckles, '' Jemmy grinned, joining the story telling session . '' he learned to throw a really great roundhouse right. And once he had those down-pat, Adam began to learn how to talk his way out of trouble, so his right hand wasn't getting sore all the time. And by this time, Adam could talk himself out of trouble with G-d, if he had to, he's that good at it. But he still knows how to throw that roundhouse right really, really well. I know, because the fact of the matter is, I've been the one catching it, a few times myself! ''

''Of course what my old friend and partner Jemison, here, entirely neglects to mention is that was done, strictly in the line of duty.'' Adam groaned.

'' And it happened solely in the interests of his continuing health and well being, such as that scenario I recall happening up on the Barbary Coast, when he needed a quick out of a particularly tight corner, with a particularly nasty crowd. And then there was that time in the Bowery, when you were in trouble again, Jemison, old man, with that especially interesting…ummm… lady…''

Mike's wide grey eyes grew even wider at this and so did Adam's grin, when Daisy, Jemmy, and Slim all coughed before he could go on with that second 'scenario'. ''Sorry, Michael, I think that story is going to have to wait a while.'' Adam told the youngster.

''Yeah, get that, Adam, figured that.'' Mike nodded sagely, giving a startlingly close rendition of Jemmy's soft, Wake county drawl.

''I knew it!'' Jemmy exclaimed, as Coop entered the ranch house looking tired and discouraged after another day's fruitless search. '' I knew that's why Adam insisted on coming here with me!''

''And why would that be, Jemison, old man?'' Adam asked with a wink at the Raleigh native, seeing that his partner was trying to lighten the gloom they were all feeling tonight.

'' I should've known when you started hitting that '_Jemison, old man',_ thing and that '_my old friend and partner, Jemison'_, thing harder than ever, everytime you turn around, partner. I came here looking for Jess, but you came here, looking for a new, young partner!'' Jemmy insisted, just barely winking in Mike's direction.

'' It's alright, you can tell us now, Mike. Adam's been trying to recruit you right onto Mac's team, right into the Secret Service, as his partner, hasn't he?''

''He tried, Jemmy.'' Mike nodded, grinning back. ''But I told him the same thing I had to tell Coop th' other day. I'm partnered up with Slim and Jess here. An' they depend on me a whole, whole lot now. I can't go off gallivantin' with immig… immi… wagon trains or with all your agents an' such!''

''Aw, now, Mike, I thought you were still thinkin' that offer of chief scout over. I thought you were gonna keep it under your hat till you settled your mind on the question, too.'' Coop protested, with a taut, weary half grin of his own.

'' Oh, I was, Coop. I was, surely thinkin' it over.'' Mike agreed, looking mischievously at Daisy and Slim, after he gave the scout a somber smile. '

' But I knew pretty well where I'd come down on it all along. I b'long here, with my family. You can see that, surely, Coop. You can see that, can't you, Adam?''

'' Oh, oh, surely, I do. And I'm sure Cooper does, as well. '' Adam agreed, shrugging. '' I won't say I'm not disappointed, though. I am. Jem's been wearing down quite a bit, just lately. Mac's going to be disappointed with your decision, too, when I wire him. But we all understand a man's family has to come first. ''

'' That's what we all think, me an' Slim, Aunt Daisy an' Jess. Did you find anything up the trail today, Coop?'' Mike asked turning his attention and everyone else's back to the scout, as Coop thanked Daisy for the plate of supper and the cup of coffee she brought him now.

'' Not anything as clear as I'd wish to, Mike, no. But there's a part of the road a good day or two east from here, that I want to look at tomorrow. Adam, you rode up that way with Mose, beginnin' of the week… up alongside a lake, didn't you? And he thought there could be something more to see… something out of kilter… '' Coop said, settling down to his meal, very glad

for Daisy's fine cooking, as tired as he was.

''You're right.'' Adam agreed. '' And I'll tell you, something, well you probably already know… That old fellow is one heck of a tracker! And I was already beginning to find that out, before the other day. But what happened that really impressed me was, we were on the main road between the Laramie range and the Wyoming-Nebraska border, and give up the search for the day and head back. But the horses scented water, and they were about to take us to it, rather than the other way around, if you take my meaning. Well, Mose found a side trail down to that lake as easily as if it was noonday.

And while we were there he started looking around what seemed to be a couple small clearings. Now, was getting close to dusk. So I'm not sure how he could tell anything about the place. But he said he was 'certain sure something was off kilter there… something just didn't set right' when he was looking around that lakeside. And as I say, there wasn't enough daylight left to get a good look-see. I'll be glad to go back with you, tomorrow. Mose tells me he's lived out in this part of the country more than forty years, now, so I'd have to guess he knows this part of the Territory awfully well.''

'' He surely does.'' Slim agreed. ''Mose was a guide himself, for settlers coming west, back in the day. And he always used to go huntin' with my Pa, Jonesy and me, and later on, with me and Andy. What Mose Waller doesn't know about the country from here back to St. Joe and out at least as far as Fort Bridger, you could probably fit inside one of Daisy's thimbles, with room to spare. Maybe I'll just come on along and have a look at the place myself.''

''Can I come too?'' Mike now demanded, reminding his elders he was still sitting amongst them, with both his 'little pitcher's' ears wide open. His eyes were wide too, looking from one man's face to the next.'' Meant to say, can I bring the boy's team up there, too, Slim? Adam? Jemmy? Can we come and help look around there?''

''Not this time, Mike.'' Slim insisted. '' This part of the trail, if I'm remembering it right from what Adam says, is nearly two days ride from here. And we set that as part of the ground rules for your team, remember?

We said no searching farther than you can go and get back home before nightfall, we said, Mike. And you all agreed to that, remember?''

'' Yeah.'' Mike nodded, frowning. '' Seems like we must've searched every place we can get to, by that measure, though. Can't we reneg… rego… can't we talk about changin' that part of them… meant to say those old rules, Slim?''

''I don't think so, Mike.'' the rancher answered, well understanding the boy's frustration and hiding a smile as Mike tried to talk more like the easterners who'd befriended him while joining the search. ''It would plumb worry me and Daisy too much, and the other boy's folks, as well, , if we said you could stay out that late or search that far. You can understand that, can't you, Mike?''

''Yeah, yeah… sure. There could be some real bad guys out there… Jess says there's still plenty of 'em around… Figure he knows that as good … meant to say, as well as I do.'' Mike sighed. ''An' now you're probly gonna say I need to wash up an' head off to bed, so you can go on talkin' about this, ain't… aren't you, Slim?''

''Well, if I wasn't, I'm pretty sure Daisy was going to say that, Mike. Did you get your lessons and your chores all done?'' Slim asked, sorry to curtail the youngster's involvement, and glad to, at the same time.

''Yes, sir.'' Mike nodded even more glumly, and turned towards his room. Then he turned back to the rancher who with Jess willingly took the place of his father, and showed more of the little boy he still was, his eyes wide and his voice straining. ''But Slim, this place bein' about two days ride, it could be a real good place to look for … stuff… to look for signs an' stuff … to help find Jess, couldn't it? He might mebbee have been that close-by, right? Jess might not have gone much further, 'specially if somebody asked him to help 'em or somethin', right? Jess would always, always stop to help somebody… wouldn't he, Slim?''

''He surely would, Mike, always. And you know, that's a great idea… a real fine theory…'' Slim nodded, smiling at the lad's bright, optimistic thoughts. '' Jess could be helping someone right now, right this minute who he found along the way in trouble. That would be just like him, to stop and help out someone in trouble, wouldn't it? Now, we're going to take that idea and run with it, Mike, so you have helped us out a lot, by coming up with it. So, will you please go clean up and get into bed, now? Daisy or I will come in to say goodnight in a little while. You still have this ranch to get running in the morning, don't you?''

''Sure!'' Mike grinned ear to ear at the rancher's praise and now rushed to do his nightly washing up.

Slim turned back to the others, with a weary smile of his own and something very like Mike's half hopeful, half worried expression of a moment ago. ''That is a good idea to work on, isn't it? I'll admit I hadn't thought about anything like it. But Jess could be helping some homesteader or someone like that, back off the main roads where he couldn't exactly send a wire or even a letter that easily.''

''Surely.'' Jemmy agreed. '' And he wouldn't be in nearly as much trouble with his partner, if he's doing something like that instead of holing up somewhere, going fishing! He wouldn't be in trouble with me or Coop either, if that proves to be the case! We can check with Sheriff Corey, and he can check with other authorities around the area, to see if anyone's heard of that kind of trouble. I was going into Laramie first thing, anyway, to check on what Mac or Danny or the others might have found out, from the other end of the search. They've been following, checking and rechecking all the leads we've had to date from North Platte.

And I'm pretty sure Ori and Jere were going or might've already gone down to Denver to check on the boy we heard was attacked there, to see if he can answer any more questions. This is a great theory to follow up on, Slim. Mike's right. That boy's got quite a head on his shoulders, doesn't he? Or maybe he's just had some real good examples and teachers here.''

''We've done the best we could by the boy, surely.'' Slim shrugged, feeling almost as reassured as Mike seemed to be, now. ''And I'd still like to ride up to that lake site, with you, Coop. Unless you think too many riders would … What were you calling it the other day, Jem? Mixing up what signs, or evidence there might be somewhere?''

'' Oh, that's just one of Jere Hoffner's new fangled notions about evidence!'' Jemmy said, shaking his head. ''And it doesn't obtain, when we're talking about anything but the newest evidence, the freshest investigation. And it doesn't obtain when they get too bunged up for Ori's field medic training to help. No, that's when they've got to come to ol' Doc Jemmy.''

''And when Jem still can't fix them up, they still need Mac, Jacques or Danny, our real team doctors.'' Adam joked.

''My best friend, and my partner.'' Jemmy moaned, joking right back, but frowning and rolling his eyes. ''And this is the way he talks about me! ''

''Adam just doesn't want you to get a swelled head, Jemmy.'' Coop laughed, and the whole group relaxed a bit.

Daisy however, noted the Texan's shoulders and neck stayed tensed. _As if they carried, or no, more as if he's afraid they'll soon be carrying the weight of the world on them. Cooper's more worried about not as yet finding Jess, then he wants Mike or any of us to know. I'm more and more impressed with my middle son's Texas cousin, and the wide, kind heart he seems to be perfectly willing to wear on his sleeve! _She thought, and walked over to sit across the table from him. ''How are you, tonight, dear?'' the silver haired, grey eyed widow asked Coop.

''I'm fine, Miss Daisy…'' Coop started to say, and stopped, shaking his head, when he looked again and saw her left eyebrow on the rise. '' No, ma'am, that's not so. I'm not fine a bit. I'm worn out and feeling as though I must've missed something in all this looking. I get paid to scout, after all, a lot of which has to do with reading tracks and trails. And I'm … pretty good at it, or I used to think so! Now, 'm not so sure of that. And then, everytime I walk in here now, I have to disappoint young Mike and you, again…''

'' But you haven't disappointed us, Coop, not at all. So you can dismiss that idea, at least.'' Daisy insisted. '' It does seem to me that I was wrong about you, though.'' ''If you thought I could turn Jess up for you faster than you could say Jack Robinson, I'd have to agree with you being wrong. But I thought … I hoped I could be some help in this, or I wouldn't have bothered comin'!''

''Well, no, that's not what I meant. I meant it seemed to me, the first few days after you came to the ranch that you're quieter, calmer by nature than Jess.

But I should have remembered something I learned in school 'still waters run deep'. And they do, Coop, don't they?''

Now Coop gave her a crooked smile that was in fact, very much like one of Jess', except for the deeper note of sadness she saw in his blue-sky eyes.

''They do that. Figure I've started to show you that mix of black Irish, Welsh marcher lord's temper I come by, naturally. And I apologize for that, ma'am. I'm the one I'm mad at, these days. Like I said, I feel like I'm letting all of you down, and letting Jess down.

I haven't seen him in more than four years' time. And G-d knows I haven't written him, much. And now he could really use my help… And… I don't know, mebbee I'm the one who came up from North Platte with the swelled head, not Jemmy.''

'' And I know you're doing just what we all are now, which is simply all we can do, each day as this search goes on, as well as we possibly can. You're losing patience with yourself, and that's natural, especially when you're tired. But if it helps, Coop, I'm not losing patience or losing hope. And I haven't lost faith, either, faith that the more pairs of eyes looking, the more pairs of hands searching the trails, and the more hearts there are praying, the sooner we'll have Jess safely home again. That last, that particularly single-minded kind of praying, my father called 'storming heaven'. And I've found it works quite well… ''

''I think my momma used that phrase, and that kind of praying, more than once. Raising two sons of her own, and half the rest of our cousins at one point or another, reckon she needed to. Your father wasn't a prea… a minister, was he?''

''No, he was a schoolteacher, up east in Frederick, Maryland. His name was Liam Neacal Torrance, and he trained me to be a teacher, as well. I believe father considered the question of whether or not he had ' a calling', and somehow became convinced he didn't. My dear mother, though, used to say that conviction only came to him while they were courting. Then my father realized the only ministers in that part of the country at that time were circuit riders. And he'd never be home often enough, or long enough to keep other fellows from trying to spark with her!'' Daisy laughed musically and smiled at the scout, making him feel unaccountably less weary.

''And as far as Jess is concerned, what I think we're all beginning to lose sight of is how strong, how resourceful, and how persevering that young man truly is. That's only part of the reason I know my middle son is coming home. He's never been one to give up or give in to troubles. He won't do that, now. But Coop, you surely know that , don't you?''

''I know pretty well just how stubborn the boy is, yes ma'am. And you're right of course. When he's in trouble, that's usually in Jess' favor, being too blamed stubborn to give in to it.

He's had to be danged tough, most of his life, surely more than I have. But I never got knocked around quite as hard as Jess did. Figure he's had more reason to fight back, more reason to be mad at the world, than I have. ''

'' Well, I'm not so sure Jess is still mad at the world these days. I think he may have eased up somewhat in that respect, since he came here. He does work hard, sometimes to keep that tough as nails, maybe a little bit dangerous, hard-bitten drifter image firmly in place, with strangers. The funny thing, though, Cooper is I've always thought that was more to hide how shy Jess can really be… to hide it from strangers, anyway.''

'' Jess? Shy? Jess Harper?'' Coop asked in blank surprise, a bit more loudly than he'd meant to.

''Jess? Shy?'' Slim and Jemmy echoed, looking over at the table with much the same surprised expression on their faces. Daisy frowned and shook her head at the other two, to indicate they weren't meant to be part of her talk with Coop. Slim, who'd learned very well how to read Daisy Cooper's expressive face by now, simply colored a bit and turned back to the talk he was having with Adam and Jemmy. Jemmy blinked at the widow Cooper, who still surprised him sometimes, by showing a reaction or an expression so much like his mother's mother, shrugged and only then frowning sheepishly, seemed to realize he'd been eavesdropping. Mouthing an apology to Daisy, the Raleigh native also turned away.

''Yes, in a way. At any rate, he can be very self-conscious, sometimes, when meeting people.'' Daisy answered Coop's question.

''I think it's especially, even now, when Jess meets people he thinks will judge him on his past alone. And of course, he's still a bit touchy about those old times. He still carries around a lot of regrets from that time in his life. And some from when he was much, much younger, of course.

In fact, what worries me most about Jess, is that, even though we've talked aboutit, more than once, lately, he still carries the deaths of his parents and his young siblings, like a weight on his shoulders that's only slightly less than enough to knock Jess off his feet. He just hasn't had a time or a place, not for very long anyway, that he could let go of that, finally. ''

''Well, no… '' Coop started to say and then, as tired as he was, the import of Daisy's words came through and he knew he was frankly staring at the grey eyed, silver haired woman. '' Wait. Daisy, wait a second, please. Did you say Jess talked about the time his folks died? Jess talked to you about that?''

'' Only after struggling with it himself and going through a rough time doing that, yes, he did. And that was only with a great deal of encouragement, if not outright pushing, on my part.

But you see, I felt I had to demand Jess talk about it with me, Coop, when I saw he was so troubled that he wasn't sleeping. And of course, it wasn't all bad, he'd only recently heard from Francine… as Mike very nearly blurted out, that first day you arrived here. ''

Coop grinned at that, and nodded. '' Yeah. And it's great to get that kind of news. But it's easy to see it would get Jess to thinking about … old times. Likely it got Francie thinking about them, too. What happened to them and young Danny … what happened to their folks and the other littles… '' Coop's grin faded and died, and he looked away, until Daisy instinctively reached for his hand, grasping it warmly.

'' Should never have happened.'' Daisy nodded. ''But I don't recall… No, I know Jess never has spoken about his younger siblings, not to so much as tell me their names. Maybe I can impose on you to do that, Coop, so I can talk to Jess about them, when he's home again, without making it harder on him by asking for details. I think he's wanted to talk about them for a very long time, and he just had no way make a start… no opening that simply wasn't too painful.''

''I think you're right. Jess keeps a lot bottled up, and not b'cause he particularly wants to, though. It sounds like you've got th' boy pretty well pegged, Miss Daisy. You seem to have a real good eye for what's goin' on with a fella, or is it only ones you've 'adopted' ?'' Coop asked.

'' No, no, I think I'm a pretty fair hand, as Jess says, at reading people. Maybe because I taught school for many years, and that was a much needed skill in a schoolroom. '' Daisy said and smiled warmly at him.

'' I'd have to imagine it was. So what more have you been readin' from me?'' Coop asked her, smiling back, feeling more and more relaxed with this truly gentle woman.

'' Mainly that you seem to be more at home with your own thoughts, maybe even to enjoy their company more than my… more than Jess does his own. Now, that may come from you being slightly Jess' elder. But I'm not certain that's the real reason. '' Daisy told him.

'' Not yet?'' Coop grinned.

'' No, not yet.'' Daisy smiled.

''Well, you wanted to know something about Jess' young brothers and sisters… There were… nine kids, all together, that my Aunt Jenn and Uncle Frank had. But two died, as babies, before they ever moved away from east Texas. They were Katie, named for Frank Harper's grandmother, Katherine Mary Kuenle, and Eli, named for his father, Elias Alexandre Harper. Francie was first born, and she used to plague Jess something awful about that, when they were kids.

And something Francie will likely never admit to, is that she was something of a tomboy, when we were all growin' up in Nacogdoches… Katie came next, but I think I remember my momma sayin' she was born too early on, so she just wasn't… strong enough… And then Eli was born, that was the year Aunt Jenn and Uncle Frank went to stay and see about buildin' down on Galveston Island… But that was a year there were real bad storms down on the Gulf… Aunt Jenn nearly died, herself, when the house they stayed in was wrecked…

So Jess … had three older siblings, two he never knew. And Jess, well the family story is that Aunt Jenn had a real time of it with him… But I have to reckon Jess showed all the way back then, how much of a fighter he could be, because it surely seemed like the odds were all against him even bein' born… And he came out scrappy and tough as old shoe leather… Uncle Frank used to say…

After Jess, two more boys were born, Alec, who was named for Uncle Frank's brother, and Danny, named for my Daddy, I'm pretty sure. And Daddy was none too happy about that, either, since he didn't much care himself for bein' named after Daniel Webster. Daddy said it made altogether too many folks think he liked to argue. Alec looked more like Aunt Jenn, though, wiry built, with sort of dark sandy hair, and big grey eyes Alec already started keeping a journal, by the time he was seven.

Alec was quiet, like their Dad, always readin' in a corner by himself, or readin' to the littles… the younger ones… Alec liked his quiet, and got his own room, up under the attic, in that place out on the Panhandle…. Folks said, later on they thought Alec could've been a teacher, or even gone to college or seminary himself. He was real bright that way. Figure we'll never know if that was true, will we?'' Coop said, and sighed, frowning.

''This is hard for you, too, I'm sorry, Coop. But I'm also very grateful for whatever you can tell me, that I feel so sure may help me talk to Jess. '' Daisy said, quietly, squeezing his hand. ''I'm still wondering, for example, why Jess was named for your father's father. Would you mind telling me?''

''Not a bit. Granpa Jacob was a man who truly loved having a big family. And he did, he had five sisters, and two brothers, and later he had five children himself, my uncle Ian, my Daddy, my aunts Sian, Sorcha and Siobhan. And he was never happier than when the big house he grew up, and lived all his life in, was full just about to the rafters with family and friends. So it was just him being the man he was, that whenever some of that family or some of those friends or both needed a roof over their heads, a warm place to stay… a sense of family…

Granpa Jacob did everything he could find to do, to help them, including opening that big old house up for them to stay… And my Daddy said, Uncle Frank made a promise that he'd do something… something lasting to show his understanding and his thanks. 'm not entirely sure though, that Jess sees bein' named that way as somethin' to be thankful for…

Figure he got plagued about it so much … when we were kids… I know he did, in fact, 'cause I did some of it, myself.'' Coop answered.

'' Children will always tease one another, sometimes with no ill intent at all, and others… well, '' Daisy nodded. ''Believe me, I've seen it a thousand times. And I can't possibly doubt, having met and talked with you, that you deeply care about both your younger cousins. But I'm not sure I quite understand why you seem to feel somehow responsible for them. Jemison and Jess are both grown men, now. ''

''I'm not sure there's any kind of sensible explanation for it. '' Coop sighed again, fibbing and knowing very well where her 'line of questioning' could take him and wishing he could still dodge the answers. '' Let me get finished telling you about Jess' little brothers and sisters, and mebbee then I can… then I will be able to make better sense of it all.

After Danny their sister Lissy, that they named for my momma, was born. Lissy was all black Irish for looks, like Uncle Frank and Jess, black hair and bright blue eyes, and all sass, too. Lissy was sharp as a tack, real good with figures, like Aunt Jenn was, and good with her hands, like our grandma Merey, and like Uncle Frank was, too. And Lissy was a genuine, no holds barred tomboy, and would never have denied it, either, I tend to think, if she'd grown… grown up. ….

And Lissy … changed her mind every month, as long as I can remember, what she wanted to do when she was grown. And nearly everytime it was somethin' that didn't set so well with at least one of the grown folks in the family, then. She was going to be a doctor, Lissy said at one point, and run her own hospital, too…next, she was going to be a writer, and go around the world givin' lectures, the way she read about Mr. Dickens doin', I guess.

Or she was going to be a reporter, like Sam Clemens was for a time… or she was … going to be a teacher and run her own college, yet, for girls and boys, together! Oh and one time she decided she was going to be a doctor and a teacher and run a children's home! You get the idea, I guess. We all thought Lissy could've done anything she set her mind to, that bright she was!

Well, Lissy liked to sleep up in the garret, at Grampa Nate's and at their house on the Panhandle too, especially in late spring or summer when it got real warm. And she … Lissy we think, was sleepin' up there that night… when the house was fired… She might've … G-d knows, I hope Lissy just fell asleep and never woke up … with the smoke and all… So, we'll never know what she could've been or done.

I wouldn't have been the least surprised if she'd managed at least two or three of those dreams of hers… and a big brood of kids, besides! Lissy said she just had to be a tomboy, cos Francie had purely given that up, once _she_ turned nine or ten. And besides, she said, she was only going with the flow, as the Harper family was leanin' so heavily towards boys, that is, until the baby girls were born.''

'' Oh, yes.'' Daisy nodded sadly. '' Two dear little girls, I remember Francine telling me something about them, when she visited here.''

''Twin girls.'' Coop agreed. ''And they got a couple fine names too… one for our Granma Merey, our momma's momma… and the other for Jess' Granma Miri… his Daddy's mother. So Merey-little was named Meredydd Eleri… And her twin was named Mirielle Anastaise… They were copper penny redheads, both. But they weren't identical, is what I remember hearing…

They were the only Harper kids born out on the Panhandle… so I … didn't know them. But I'm told that you could easy tell them apart, once they looked up at you… cause Merey had big, golden brown-hazel eyes, and Miri's eyes were green as grass. The twins were still sleeping in what served as a nursery, the room upstairs, next to Aunt Jenn and Uncle Frank's, is what I've been told..

You know that Jess and Francie and one other of the Harper kids made it out of the house alive, away from the fire, that night. That third surviving child was Danny, who got named for my Daddy, Daniel Webster Smith, bein' Uncle Frank was his best friend. Danny was a walking, talking burst of sunshine, all over freckles every summer, a pure towhead, with deep set grey eyes, like Aunt Jenn's, full of spirit, and always gigglin', it seemed.

Danny was six and half that last year they were out on the Panhandle, and busy as all get out, I remember hearin', with all sorts of energy, and all kinds of projects he was building. He always had sized-down mill wheels, and windmills, and sailboats. And I think somebody said, Danny was always trying to figure out a way to put a lightnin' rod up on the barn roof out there, or how to make a well-pump work smoother, or a grinding wheel move faster, or how to make a windmill stay upright on the rollin' plains out there.

So, I think everybody thought Danny would be an engineer… if he only could get the right schooling. And I'm pretty sure it was in my Daddy's mind to make sure his namesake got that chance, if Danny truly wanted it. But we also thought Danny could've been a breeder, he loves all kinds of dogs, and had started in askin to go along hunting, that spring, I heard.

Well, Danny … fell, inside the house, durin' the fire, and broke his back. And this … Daisy, this is something I'm not entirely sure Jess remembers too well… He'd probably deny it, even if he does recall. But Jess had already woken up himself and then woke up Francie. They both had their rooms downstairs, I think. And it was Jess who ran back inside the house, once he knew Francie was safe outside, it was Jess who found Danny and carried the boy out of there.

Now, you know how old Jess was then, he was ten and a half. And you probably have a good idea how scrawny he was, with the kind of growing spurts a ten year old has… So you can understand real well it wasn't exactly easy for him to carry his younger brother when Danny was awake enough for that kind of play. When Danny was out of it, or hurting… the way he had to be that night…

But he did it. Jess saved Francie and then went back and saved Danny, too.''

'' Coop, I've never heard a single word from Jess about that, except to say his younger brother was so badly injured he'll never walk. And now, hearing the story, I must admit, I'm bewildered. My Word, why wouldn't Jess remember that proudly?'' Daisy exclaimed.

'' I'm not sure I understand it entirely, myself.'' Coop agreed with her. '' Danny is surely tremendously grateful to his big brother, and I'm sure Francie is, too. Jess… well, mebbee he has some crazed idea he could have kept Danny from falling… Or maybe even more crazed, mebbee Jess has some idea he could have gotten upstairs somehow and got the others… his folks, Lissy, Alec or the babies, Miri and Merey…But no one could've. No one at all.

When I got out there with my folks, nearly a week and a half later…

it took that danged long… you could still see plain as day how that house came down…You could still see how it must've been set on fire from two, three directions at once! We're all da… danged lucky Jess woke up that night. And th' boy still doesn't get that. He doesn't seem to know or recall we would've lost Francie, Danny and him, that we would have lost the whole lot of them, otherwise!''

''And Danny? Where is he now, Coop? How is he?'' Daisy asked.

''He's livin' back in Nacogdoches. In fact, Danny's keepin' Granpa Nate's house up… he and his young family are. He's married, which really… It's terrific, and I'll admit, it surprised me, to a girl named Nell Cochrane from over in Wichita Falls. He's a fine young fella, nothing stops him, really, anymore than it does his big brother. Danny still keeps to a wheeled-chair a lot, of course. But he's something to see, makin' it fly around that old house and yard! And he gets up, with some danged heavy braces on both legs, and crutches around sometimes, which is also really something to see… And he writes to me… I don't know if he's tried writing to Jess, anytime lately, though.

There's something about seein' Danny in that chair, seems to drive Jess half wild… I can't honestly tell you why it does, or why it should. But I'm pretty sure, from th' last time I was … to home there, Danny said he hasn't heard a word from Jess in a danged long time, and doesn't really expect to. Danny thinks maybe it just makes Jess think about what could have happened that night, that they all could've been murdered in that fire… Or it makes Jess think what could have happened … that he should've have done and didn't… Time was, I wasn't sure myself I could understand havin' that sort of regret… ''

''And you do, now and maybe, at some point you'll feel you can tell me why that changed, Coop. But, you wanted to tell me something else about Jess' family, didn't you, dear?''

''There's that mind readin' Jess plumb forgot to write me about, again!'' Coop exclaimed, smiling, but then he grew serious and sad again. Daisy, the Harper place… the place they were share-cropping wasn't a big place, and the house surely wasn't anything to talk about… And I remember thinking, when I got a letter from Jess, mebbee the only one I got while they lived out there, that I had to go and at least visit a spell, 'cause he'd seen some birds there called _Cooper's hawks!_ It's funny, isn't it, what a boy gets excited about?

But Uncle Frank really thought he could make a go of it, there… And he likely could have… Daisy, it was a good little piece of land, surely. It could have made a fine place, like Uncle Frank and Aunt Jenn thought, to raise kids and horses and such, not so much for too many crops… it's a pretty good mix of loamy and sandy soil… until you get up on the high plains… But I still can't see how it was ever worth what was done there!

They fired it, they rode in one night, middle of th' night… They… trampled Aunt Jenn's kitchen garden, broke down the corral, pulled over the sheds and the other outbuildings… burned the house and the barn, stampeded the stock out of there… too… Guess they figured they could change brands and resell th' stock, Guess they didn't figure they could get as much for th' kids! Damn them! Oh, gosh! 'm sorry… I wasn't taught to talk that way anywhere around a lady…'' Coop turned red and apologized fervently.

'' Thank you, Coop. I surely understand your feelings. Nothing could possibly be worth two loving, caring parents and four fine, strong, and happy children all lost in one night! Nothing ever will be worth what their lives were worth to Jess, to your parents, or to you. And you went through the war, just as Jess did, so you've known even more losses, since. Can you… will you tell me something about them, Cooper? Oh, I am sorry. That was inexcusable prying! '' Daisy said, shaking her silvery head of curls.

'' No, it's alright. I opened up that corral, I guess. Another way Jess an' me aren't so much alike. I had my folks and my home a whole lot longer. We surely never got uprooted all in one night Th' way Jess an' Francie were. '' Coop told her.

''Not until you went to the War, I'd have to guess?'' Daisy asked.

'' No, not till then. And then it was Th' War was everybody… everywhere… turnin' all whopper-jawed we used to say. Nothin' seemed to make much sense then, or much afterwards. '' Coop agreed, looking down and away, not sure he should saddle the kindly, caring widow with his worst war stories and worse yet, memories from that time.

''Cooper, Jess did tell me something, something about that time… You lost your younger brother?'' Daisy told him.

'' Jeff… Thomas Jefferson Smith…'' Coop nodded, feeling the old ache in his throat, in his gut. ''All of sixteen years old, all of sixteen!''

''Would you… Cooper, I'd really like to hear about Jefferson, please?'' Daisy asked.

Now, after giving Daisy's kind face another keen look, Coop nodded and sketched the short, harsh life of his brother for her in words that still ran through him like knives. And then, with even less reluctance, surprising himself, the scout finished with the story of his own darkest, most vengeful hours.

'' 'M not proud of what I acted like then. 'm not ever gonna be. Reckon I understood what Jess lived through some better, after that.'' the scout said, and went quiet again.

''I' know he's very glad to have someone who knows, who understands. It always does help, don't you think?'' Daisy asked and was rewarded, and surprised when those blue sky eyes came up, still bright with tears they refused to shed.

'' It surely helped me. I should say, it was my friends who helped, Chris Hale, most of all. The man reads me almost better than I'd like. He's my boss and… he's my g-dfather, as it turns out… and my best friend, too. Wish you could meet him, sometime, Miss Daisy.'' Coop said.

''I'd truly like to.'' Daisy nodded. '' He sounds like a fine, fine man, and a wonderful friend to have. Perhaps you can bring him, Cooper, the next time you come … for a real visit. Next summer, perhaps?''

'' My gosh! I was just thinkin' that! You really can read minds, can't you?'' Coop heard himself asking this woman he'd barely met, whose grey eyes mirrored his own sadness, but with unremitting sympathy and affection, and trust.

''No, not really, faces maybe, and voices. And you need to keep in mind, I have the advantage of knowing Jess for several years now. There are a number of things you really do have in common, Cooper, and not just those black-Irish tempers… and looks. Your spirits are equally strong, equally daring, I'd say or you wouldn't take on the kind of challenges you face, every single day.

Both your minds are sharp as a razor's edge. I'd have to guess, that like Jess, you can learn anything you put your mind to, and quickly too. And your young hearts, as battered as they might seem, are whole and free of the worst kinds of bitterness, and yes, excuse me if you don't care for this word, but truly gentle, too.'' Daisy answered.

''It's not one I get applied to me, too awfully much, that's so.'' Coop

shook his head, smiling at her and feeling a whole lot less weary and disheartened. ''You know, when I got a letter from Jess … nearly two years ago, now, he told me Missus Daisy Cooper was somebody very special, a real wonder, Jess said. And he said, if I ever showed up here, I'd best remember what he said and treat you like a very special gift and a genuine, absolute treasure, cos that's what you are. And for once in his young life, my cousin was absolutely right. You surely are.''

''Jess wrote all that? Really?'' Daisy asked, smiling back. ''I'll have to remember to thank him. And you wanted to ask me another question?'' Daisy said, accepting the compliment with a nod.

'' Yes! Are you reading my mind again, now?'' Coop demanded.

'' No, no, not really. Well, maybe just a little bit.'' Daisy grinned.

'' Then you know what I wanted to ask?'' the scout asked her, smiling but wary.

'' I think I can make a good guess. My husband's name was Andrew Michael Needham Cooper. And my dear Andrew was born in Tennessee, near Chattanooga, as I recall. But, what truly settles the question is that my dear husband was actually adopted, very much like my boys adopted little Mike. His parents were killed while traveling west from Virginia to make a new home in Tennessee.

And his new family moved when Andrew was very young, three or four years old to southern Ohio, and he grew up there, around Jamestown. I met Andrew when he came to Maryland to go to school. My father had a boarding school there. In any case, now that we know I'm related to Jemison's side of your family instead of yours, that's one more question settled. And I'm glad to get to know Jess' friend and cousin, Cooper, very glad indeed. '' Daisy answered, smiling.

''Thanks, I'm glad to know you, too. My turn, I guess. Or maybe Jess told you some of this story… Our mommas' Daddy was named Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper. I was named for him. He grew up in Kentucky, mostly

around Louisville, but some around Newport, right on th' Ohio River. But Granddaddy married a girl from a Welsh immigrant family, named Meredydd Trahaerne.

And they moved to Texas, outside Nacogdoches, when Mexico was invitin' folks there, from Th' States. They had two daughters, Jess' mother and mine, and three sons, but their sons all died young, the way so many kids did, back then. And like I said, it's Danny and some of our other, younger cousins, keepin' up Granddaddy's place these days. Reckon Jess an' me are still too much of a couple of …'' Coop shrugged.

'' Tumbleweeds,'' Daisy finished. ''Tough, hardy plants that seem as though they don't need a lot of ground, or water or looking after. But the fact of the matter is they make fine ground cover on the prairies, and excellent protection against windstorms. Which sounds odd, if you've never seen a stack of tumbleweeds around a homestead where the walls are mainly dried mud. Oh, excuse my manners, please, Cooper… I was a schoolteacher myself, for years.''

Coop's wide grin amazingly grew wider now. '' I barely got out of what schoolin' I had, alive, myself. Not much for books, I guess.''

''Yet I couldn't help noticing another difference between you and Jess. You keep a journal.'' Daisy noted.

'' I … I do. I got th' journal, and the habit both, from my Daddy. Figure that's how I learned to make friends with what rattles around in my head. And it works, most of Th' time.'' Coop told her.

'' Maybe we should suggest that to Jess?'' Daisy chuckled.

'' Mebbee. '' Coop shook his head. '' Th' boy seems to be doin' pretty good for himself even without that, these days. He needed a place like this. He needed a family, again. A lot of us did, after th' War was over. But seems as though my cousin Jess's smart enough to get that. So we'd best get th' boy on back here, except for one thing.''

''And what would that be, Coop? You're not going to offer me that head scout job, now, are you?'' Daisy laughed.

'' Well that does it!'' Coop exclaimed, laughing again. '' You're comin' back to th' train with me, Daisy Cooper!''

'' I am? And why is that?'' Daisy laughed back.

'' Cause I can't afford to have somebody reads me and my mind as well as you outa my sight. And I'm about to be killed dead by Charlie Wooster's cookin'! That man can burn anything he lays his hands on, and when he doesn't burn 'em they come out half-raw! And you haven't met my boss and my friend Chris Hale, yet, and I think you'd really like him, and he'd really like you, too! But …you're not gonna come back with me, are you?'' Coop asked.

'' No, dear.'' Daisy shook her silver head. '' I can't leave my boys. I'm afraid they'd either starve, without my pies, or freeze, without my mending for them. But thank you, anyway. That's likely to be the most exciting job offer I've had since I came to Laramie.''

''Glad to oblige, ma'am.'' the scout nodded, touching his forehead politely.

''But you look as though you're still hungry. And I know Slim and the others are going to want something more to eat, anytime now, once they've got their plans for tomorrow set. I'd better see about some more late supper, or early breakfast.'' Daisy said.

''How can I help?'' Coop asked her.

'' Come back into the kitchen and talk to me. Tell me some things I don't know about Jess.'' Daisy answered, smiling again, but a touch more sadly.

'' Is there anything?'' Coop laughed.

'' Well, I think it's possible, just barely possible.'' Daisy laughed and accepted the Texan's outstretched arm.


	16. Chapter 16a

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Mansion at Widow's Retreat

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

'And I submit we have every right to hold you finally accountable for your transgressions, your disloyalty, and yes, I will so frame it, your outright treasonable actions, sir! You have made it clear that except for one particular, inexorable turn of events, you would have entirely deserted this Company! You have stated, in your own freely given deposition, that you sought to flee this organization, against all the oaths you previously took to lead, to maintain and to protect it with your life, and you further sought to remove other parties also sworn to this society!''. Heydon Palmerston Moray vehemently declared, glaring at his former Commander and present accused, Lee Henry Morrissey.

''And I submit that oaths made to me were long since abrogated, thus freeing me from any further commitment to this … damnable association And when I acted on that understanding, I was not only hounded as though I were some low sort of felon, I was abducted, brought here against my will and, in that process, violently bereft of my sole remaining child!'' Morrissey replied with equal, if not more force, glaring back.

It was well past midnight, and they were still going back and forth on the matter of whether the military style tribunal the Widow asked Moray to convene could in fact legally judge her brother. No one in the former dining hall of the rambling mansion thought the question would be settled tonight or tomorrow. But it surely held the interest of the Company members not on watch or otherwise on duty. Many of them had been glad to know the Hoynes brothers and Devlin Jackson ' ran off' before they could be hauled before this makeshift court-martial. Many of them were watching and waiting now, thinking they'd decide which way to 'jump', when the Company's former Commander was either condemned here or acquitted.

''That child was past the age of maturity in his home state and parish, was he not, sir?'' the prosecutor demanded.

''According to the absurd statutes of an antiquated legal code, yes, you are technically correct. According to the Napoleonic Code on which the laws of Louisiana were first based, yes, my last remaining son was considered to have reached legal majority. But he was not yet eighteen years of age, sir, a fact which all of you here, judging me and judging him noware very much aware!

And he …my last remaining son, despite the awful deeds he witnessed, the dire things he heard, was still very much an innocent young boy! Lee Edward should never have been considered of age to give the oaths you now so bitterly, posthumously, condemn him, for abrogating! He should never have had any part whatever in the 'endeavors' of this organization'! And it is on my head, I know, that he ever came within range of this 'society'!

But I tell you now, gentlemen, had I but known my last surviving child's life would be the forfeit I paid for taking my part in the work of this …band…I would have severed him from this vale of tears, by my own hand! As G-d is my Witness, I swear to you all, I would have rather, I would cheerfully rather have made his quietus and my own, before he came within a thousand miles of your …''

''Oh, yes, of course, now it has become ours …our band of renegades, of outlaws, of brigands, never yours, sir! Is that your contention, is that your testimony, Mister Morrissey or is it just your futile wish that you no longer be associated with this band of brothers? Because if it is either of the former you are a flagrant perjurer, sir. And if it is the latter, you are a damned fool, and an even more damnable coward!

We acted as one command, as your command, sir, until you chose desertion as your only means of escaping a DamnYankee prison or a DamnYankee noose for what you did and ordered done!'' Moray shrilled, letting everyone in the 'courtroom' believe he was rapidly losing his own infamous temper. In fact, he was quite contentedly goading his 'defendant' to the point where at least half the tribunal members would be glad to lynch their erstwhile Commander and never think twice.

''I'm here, now, aren't I, HP?'' Morrissey quietly asked his former Third in Command, and shrugged, addressing him as informally as only he himself and Napier Pascale had ever dared to do in the past. A rush of quiet snickering rose in the courtroom for a moment. And at that point there was no more doubt, and no more charades going on. Palmerston Moray had never and would never tolerate the sort of mockery he naturally doled out to others being visited on him. His temper actually flaring, Moray looked around, his icy eyes clearly intending retribution for anyone they found laughing at the prosecutor now.

''You are, indeed, Lee. And it may be you will at some point come to a genuine understanding of the consequences attendant on your appearance before this tribunal! And when that happens, sir, please, be good enough to send me word of your finally regaining your maturity!'' ' Moray sneered, and surprised them all by frowning still more darkly, turning on his heel, and stomping out of the 'courtroom' he no longer controlled.

''The tribunal was given to understand you were compelled to appear before it, sir. Is that not the truth of the matter, then?'' The Widow Pascale calmly asked, framed in the doorway her 'prosecutor' just left by.

''That seems to be a matter for no small misunderstanding, ma'am.'' her brother answered, with all the deference he'd learned to give a Southron gentlewoman since his boyhood. '' In fact, I always intended to, and I would have appeared before this august body entirely of my own free will.

What I was entirely unwilling to do, since there was no need, and no writ, was to allow my son, Lee Edward Robert Morrissey to have any part whatever in these deliberations. I made those two simple facts known to the members of the Company who came seeking after my son in Cheyenne. And I was told he would be left there, unharmed. In fact, his safety was promised me then and there.

That promise apparently had all the weight of all the rest of the oaths made me by this Company, as my child was cruelly, needlessly murdered within the following quarter of an hour! So much for any Southron Gentlemen's Honor amongst us! So much for any honor amongst comrades at arms whatsoever! At that point, I … will admit freely now, I don't know quite what I did or said, for a certain length of time. Apparently though, my reaction

to losing my sole remaining child was misconstrued as an attack on the men who killed him! Following that, I was forcibly restrained, drugged and transported to these delightful environs. What more would you care to know, ma'am?''

''A great many things, sir. But I am not in any way prepared to take on the role of Prosecutor, here. General Traherne, sir, may I impose upon you, at least _pro temp,_ to perform that office for the tribunal?'' Pascale asked, turning to one of the elders present.

''You may indeed, ma'am. I'd consider it an honor, as well as a solemn duty.'' Adam Traherne agreed, standing up at his place along the main tribunal panel's table.

''And we consider ourselves truly honored to still be graced by your presence, sir, and aided by your service. Please do excuse me, gentlemen. I have matters that require my immediate attention, elsewhere.'' the Widow said and turned to leave.

''Eugenie!'' Morrissey called out now, bringing Pascale's attention back

to him, along with that of everyone remaining in the room. '' I've been hoping for chance to talk with you all this long while the tribunal has been in session. Won't you stay a little while longer, Sister?''

''Lee Henry, I cannot take part in these proceedings, as you very well understand! You are my flesh and blood, it would hardly be deemed proper or legally correct! '' Pascale insisted. ''It would not be, isn't that so, General Traherne, sir?''

''It could be construed as a conflict of interest, yes, ma'am. But if you wish… '' Traherne agreed, bowing his head to the Widow.

'' I ...I do not. I must attend to other matters, Brother. I must… '' the widow repeated, shaking her head and turning again to leave the room.

' 'genie, please, wait a moment! General Traherne, sir, since I have no Defense Counsel present here, may I make the request I would have such a person make for me, of the tribunal?'' Morrissey asked.

''That would be considered allowable proceedure, sir. What is your request?' the newly coined 'prosecutor' asked.

''I ask for a recess to be taken by the tribunal, sir, a brief recess, of no more length than three quarters to one full hour. I ask this so I may have private converse with my only remaining family, our General Pascale's Widow, who, as it happens, is my own dearly cherished sister. I ask this for no other purpose, sir, than to have just that little time with my dear twin, and will submit to whatever further procedures are deemed proper, I assure you.''

''The tribunal will grant your request, Lee Henry, only if your sister agrees to it, and with the caveat added that an armed guard must remain within the chamber, to ensure our dear Widow's safety at all times. Missus Eugenie, ma'am, do you agree to no more than an hour's conference with the accused?''

The Widow looked from her brother's sadly smiling face to the General's weathered features and back again. And for a moment both men, and their cohort thought she would still refuse. Then she took her reticule, withdrew pencil and paper from it, and turning to a small desk beside the door, stopped to scrawl something down, before looking back at the prosecutor _pro temp._

''I do. Please, have these instructions taken immediately to my rooms, sir. My boys are there and will thereby know what I need done, in my brief absence.''

''Chance,'' Traherne called out, nodding to Chance Stuart. ''Take the Widow's instructions straight on over to her boys, will you, sir?''

''At once, sir.'' the tall, muscularly built redhead nodded. ''A pleasure to serve you, as always, ma'am.'' the Georgian said quietly, bowing to Pascale.

''Very gracious of you to say so, Charles.'' The Widow smiled, handed over her message and watched him stride away.

''Lee Henry, do you agree to the condition stated?'' Traherne asked the former Commander.

''I do, sir, even though I would rather die than harm my Twin.'' Morrissey nodded.

''Nor would I think otherwise, Lee Henry, had not circumstances seemed to have so far altered cases. Very well then, Quince, you have the guard on the courtroom, for the period of this recess, together with Chance, when he gets back. And I expect to take report of nothing but respectful attitudes and behaviors from all parties, all parties, sir. Do you clearly take my meaning?'' Traherne asked the towering, older Stuart brother.

''Yes, sir!'' Quince Stuart replied, saluting. All parties, meant including the Company members filing out now. By 'all parties', the general, a tenacious west Tennessean meant for none of them to take advantage of this delay, either to stir more quarrels and disruptions in the Company, or to find more enjoyable troubles to get into, at the spur head in Pine Bluffs, half

a mile away.

''Well, whatever did you wish to say to me, in private, Twin?'' Pascale demanded, when all the tribunal members and witnesses had left and only Quince Stuart remained, standing guard at the wide, double doorway to the hall.

''Well, first of all, Twin, there is a matter I should very much like to confess to you, now, just between the two of us, as so many matters in our lives used to be. And I will admit to hoping, sister-mine, that even if I am condemned here, you will be able at some future date to forgive me my trespasses… '' Morrissey told her, smiling a bit sadly at his sister.

'' But I am evidently neither a clergyman, nor the Deity, Lee Henry.'' Pascale protested, shaking her head. '' So I am not empowered to absolve you of any wrongdoing whatsoever.''

''But it is neither the Deity's nor some clergyman's nor any church's absolution I am asking for, Eugenie Isabelle. '' her brother answered. ''It is yours. And I am not sure I should even hope for that, at this late point in our … relations.

Nevertheless, I do ask it. And I ask you to hear me out, while we still have this time with one another for such matters. G-d knows we've both lost so many of those we loved so greatly, and in too many cases without even the mercy or solace of a last look, a last touch, a last word from them.''

''You would do well not to venture onto the subject of our losses, brother!'' the Widow coldly insisted, folding her arms and glaring at him. '' You would do very well to refrain from discussing my losses with me, entirely, Lee Henry! And I say that now, if only because it's always been a subject on which we've rather bitterly quarreled. No, don't deny it, Twin. We've always clashed on the subject of our mutual and separate losses, excepting for that brief period, some three years back, when you were, for once, equally enraged and eager as I, for some honorable recompense!''

''Yes, we have, always disagreed on this subject, sister. '' Morrissey nodded, taking note of her angry posture. ''Except, as you point out, when I had word, at long last of my Daniel Eamon's bitter fate. I thought I would gladly walk straight into Hell and remain there for all time, then. And then I did just that. I walked, no rather, I marched directly into Perdition, and led this Company of yours, of ours, into its bleakest depths along with me.

And this we have talked of on many occassions, Twin, as being my realization and my greatest regret. And this is precisely why I need to tell you, now, Eugenie, what I did when the day came when I no longer wished to rot in hell with only my devastating pain and my bitter vengeance for companions.

'' I'm not planning to spin yarns for you, or even make up stories. As I already said, I asked you to stay here a moment, to hear the truth from me, Eugenie. And to show my thorough trust, I will begin by telling you a truth I have declined to share with Moray or any member of his tribunal. I did not bury my last surviving son in Cheyenne, Twin. Instead, I sent Lee Edward away from there, sound, alive and well, just as I'd always intended.

Your only remaining nephew still lives, 'genie, and one day, I hope you will be as glad of that as I am. I sent my last remaining child away from the debacle I'd nearly made of his young life and sent him from me, probably forever. I ordered Neddy to leave my side, when I found him facing Solomon and his band of cheerily bloody-handed killers that day, just over a month past in Cheyenne.

I ordered my son, my Lee Edward to remove himself as far as he could travel from the Company and the aunt who claimed she wished him dead. And for once in his young life, albeit reluctantly, the boy obeyed me, 'genie. He rode out of Cheyenne, alive and well that day. And I neither know nor wish to know where he's gone into hiding. That is the whole of my confession, Twin. I lied to you. My only remaining son is alive, not dead.''

''You lied to me, Lee Henry?'' the Widow demanded, all but jumping to her feet and staring at him, now. '' You lied to me, brother? And I'm to be glad of that, am I? I'm to be glad you only now confessed your bitter falsehood? Well I… I am no such thing! I … I hate that! I utterly, completely hate …You lied? I hate that! Why would you … Whyever would you think such a callous, unkind thing was needful?''

''Why would I?'' Morrissey echoed, feeling his own disbelief mounting. '' You ordered Solomon Howell to murder both my son and myself, sister! You told our old friend Sol, in precisely these words,' to seek out and destroy' your only surviving brother and his only child! So, I lied, Eugenie, to make certain sure of my boy's safety. What else was I to do, Twin? What else would any father do, to spare his child from outright murder?''

''Having never owned the capacity for fatherhood, Lee Henry, I can hardly answer that question, can I?'' Pascale asked, but far more quietly and sadly.

''Napier and I would have happily adopted children. I know I could have been a fairly good mother to them, having helped with Neddy, having helped dear Poppa, when momma passed on. I might have been… ''

''You would have been a splendid mother, 'genie.'' Morrissey told her, and considered he wasn't lying. Years ago, given the chance she would have raised her own child as lovingly as she did her younger brother. ''You were all but a mother to our dear, younger brother. And he loved you for it, greatly, 'genie.''

''But he's … he's… ''The Widow turned away, shaking her head and choking on the words and the flood of memories and grief this talk with Morrissey was evoking. '' You tell me now, that _your_ Neddy lives on, Lee Henry, and I may… indeed be glad for that… someday. But …my …my Neddy… He's gone, brother! He's gone now for so very, very long! Some days I do not know how I can ever bear it!''

Now Morrissey knew he was frankly staring at his sister. In six years time, since the day word came of the elder Neddy Morrissey's death in the French Quarter, he could count on both his hands the times Eugenie had acknowledged that simple, heartbreaking fact. Instead she'd made a constant practice of 'conversing' with his lost, beloved spirit, and her late husband's as if they escorted her across the country, still.

''Perhaps we can bear it better… together, Dearest Twin.'' Lee Henry suggested with all the gentle affection for her, welling up within him, now. '' I loved the boy as well, you know. I taught him how to hunt and shoot and ride…''

'' No, Twin, I taught Neddy how to ride when he was just old enough to sit upright before me on a saddle!'' Pascale insisted, her wide, silvered-grey eyes alight with tears she would not shed. '' I did that for him, just as _maman_ had done for each of us, since Poppa was never any hand with horses at all. Please, if we're going to share remembrances, I will ask you to remember those times correctly. Ah, how much, how often have I wished to have those times again! We were … weren't we always so very happy, then, Lee Henry?''

'' So it seems to me, Eugenie Isabelle.'' Morrissey answered, smiling sadly. '' So it often seems to me, yes. And yet, I'm not unhappy to be sitting, talking with you, now, sister-mine. Will you listen to the other things I've wished to tell you, ever since I came here, from Cheyenne?''

'' I don't know that I will.'' Pascale answered, sounding and looking more like a sulking schoolgirl than an angry woman. ''You've just confessed you lied to me,, after all. You lied to me about that young whelp, and having admitted it, now you seek my forgiveness?''

'' I did lie. And yes, I would be grateful for your pardon, Eugenie Isabelle.'' Morrissey told her, shaking his head unhappily at her reaction

''Well, sir that you shall never have, not even for an instant!'' Pascale answered, her eyes wide and blazing with anger now. ''I was sorry. Yes, believe it or not, I was truly sorry to hear of the boy's demise, Lee Henry. I have regretted, whether you will believe me or no, giving Solomon those … instructions. My fury, my temper, quite, quite overwhelmed me … on that occasion, and I … regretted it, soon afterwards.

I find I am … quite as weary as you claim to be, brother-mine of seeing young men come to their life's end so untimely.. But now you tell me all that was for naught? All my concern for you and your grief was never needed? You deliberately deceived me, brother, and defrauded this tribunal? _You … you and Solomon both, and all those who accompanied him_ on that mission perpetrated this despicable hoax on the Company as a whole?

Surely you must have understood I would not remain angry with the lad for an indefinite period, Lee Henry! Surely you know me better than anyone still living and know the workings of my temper … it being nearly identical with your own!''

'''genie, I have hoped, indeed I have asked time and again since my arrival here to speak with you, to know your mind on just this matter.'' Lee Henry protested, reaching for his sister's arm, and sighing when she twisted it from his grasp. She turned away from him completely but he couldn't give up, yet. ''And I hoped to and I am more than glad to hear you did not and do not remain lethally enraged with your _only surviving nephew._

But the fact remains that until just now, I had no means of knowing your mind in this regard. I only knew what Solomon reported to me in Cheyenne. I only knew you ordered him to 'seek out and destroy' my son and I . What would you have me do, Twin, sacrifice my boy on the altar of your wrath, your wrath that is and was with myself alone? You know me, too, and better than anyone still living, Eugenie. So you know such a thing was never possible to me, I could no more acquiesce in my son's death than I could in yours, my Dearest Twin.''

''DO NOT CALL ME THAT! DO NOT CALL ME BY THAT ABSURD, MEANINGLESS AND UTTERLY FRAUDULENT TITLE EVER, EVER, EVER AGAIN!'' The Widow ordered him. Then she turned back to glare at her brother and Morrissey was very much surprised, as he had not been by her show of temper. When she turned, Pascale's wide, silvery-grey eyes, the twins of his own, were even more brilliant than usual, brightened by evident tears she clearly wished not to shed.

Smiling sadly, Lee Henry shook his head and calmly recited to her from a youthfully morbid conversation they'd had a few hundred times, in their long ago, lost youth in New Orleans' St. Bernard's Parish. ''Would taking your own life end your twins'? Would taking your own twin's life take yours, as well? Can one twin survive the death of the other? Aren't souls born in the same instant linked even more strongly than flesh and blood?'' he quoted, and was stunned again, when the Widow completed the litany for him.

''Would your death be my own, my Dearest Twin? If so, if we decide that must be the truth of our twinned selves, our twinned lives, please, please don't ever, ever die! Or if you mean to die, please do let us take that leap, that last step, together!'' Pascale whispered, shook her head and ran from the hall without another word.


	17. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Between Laramie and Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

'' This is it,'' Adam said, after studying the third of four paths or trails off the main road they'd checked, the morning after they rode out from the ranch, a second time. ''This is where Mose and I stopped just long enough to water the horses and for him to get that out of kilter feeling.''

'' And you're sure of that, Adam?'' Slim asked, looking around. ''This one, not one of the other three we've looked at, off this part of the main east-west road?''

''I'm sure of it, and I'll tell you why… No, better than that, I'll show you why…

Right over there, around the base of that copse of cottonwoods… and they're plains cottonwoods, so as far as that's concerned this clearing could be anywhere between Missouri and North Dakota, But around the base of those trees, there's a huge growth of rabbit-brush and it's blooming.

And that yellow color, was the only thing I could see clearly enough to remember, when Mose and I stopped here. Not only that, but in a month or so it would be even easier to find this place, if we had the luxury of that much time. Because then those plum trees, further along the lakeside, that ninebark, and the chokecherries right on the banks of the lake, and that pagoda dogwood down the other side, would all be blooming, and simply covering the ground with white blossoms.'' Adam nodded.

'' So, you're a botanist, too, is that what you're saying?'' Slim asked, wide eyed as the actor-agent demonstrated another of his avocations.

''Not a very serious one, no. I don't have the time, just now. And when I take the time, these days, it's usually to help Jem find some strain of plant or shrub that Cooper's mother apparently taught him to use for some really awful medicinal preparation. But what I'm really saying is, this is where Mose and I stopped. This is where he said things didn't set right with him.

''Then let's get to looking for whatever that might have been.'' Coop said, already dismounting and ground tying Gambler. ''Too bad Mose hurt his back or he could have likely pointed us right to it.''

Slim was off Alamo in the next moment, and nodded his agreement. ''I keep telling Mose he should have retired two, three years ago when he began having serious back troubles. But Mose keeps telling me he figures the railroads will retire all of us right out of the relay business, any time now… So he's going to keep at it, until they do.''

''Chris keeps saying the same thing, every year, about how he doesn't have to decide to retire, the railroads are closer to making that decision for him, every mile and every year.'' Coop nodded. '' But what he'll do then… I can't imagine. Can't imagine what I'll do then, either, reckon. Railroads don't exactly hire on old Indian scouts.''

''Don't you have a stake in your grandfather's place, down in east Texas?'' Adam asked, dismounting from his steel dust mare, Xanthe. ''I don't mean to pry, really. It was Jem who said something about that, the other night and piqued my curiosity.''

'' Granpa Nate did a real fine, kinda odd thing with his property down around Nacogdoches, that's what Jemmy and I were talkin' to Mike about. He got his land from Mexico, first off, and then of course the Republic came and there was a whole new crop of deeds and papers. Then statehood came, along with more deeds, more papers. '' Coop grinned.

''And I'm sure as shootin' Granpa was glad to be gone to Glory before we ever got to the whole tangle around secession! For one thing, I believe he would have sided with Sam Houston, against the whole danged idea. For another, I think he could see it comin', most everybody could back then…

And Granpa Nate bought land, free and clear and deeded it out in good sized parcels to every grandchild he could lay claim to! And when it turned out there were only ten or fifteen of us, he started in on cousins… and then on neighbors… It would be one heck of a spread if we ever combined it, surely. But he didn't want that, either, so it's not set up to allow more than two or three parcels to come under one person. Of course there's not any one of us could afford the taxes on the whole shebang, anyway, much less the runnin' of it. ''

''So Jemmy owns a parcel, and so does … so does Jess?'' Slim asked, surprised yet again by something he'd never heard his partner mention.

''No, Jemmy gave his parcel to his cousin Celia and her kids. She's got quite a brood and they lost their home in the War.'' Coop answered.

'' And Jess … well, 'm not certain sure, but I think he gave the runnin' of his parcel over to his brother Danny… if not th' ownership, outright. Th' boy said he just couldn't think about stayin' down there, at the time all this was getting settled… after my momma passed on.

I wasn't much for stayin' to home then, either. So, before you ask, I gave the runnin' of my parcel and whatever can be made from it to Tommy Mcbain, a friend of … of Jeffy's… one who made it home again, and he can buy it from me, anytime. Dunno, mebbee I'll change my thinkin' on that, someday. Doubt Jess will, though. Wyoming Territory seems to agree with the boy pretty well.''

'' That's the way it seems…'' Slim agreed, already looking around the center of the grassy swale for some sign he had less hope than he wanted to say of finding. They had to find Jess soon, now, and hopefully well… or not too bad off, the rancher had determined, before leaving the ranch in Mort's capable hands, two mornings ago. They were going to find him. That was all there was too it. Still, Slim shivered a bit, despite the warmth of the spring day, thinking about what Coop had related as far as his encounter with this group of murderers calling itself 'the Company'.

Coop was looking further down the lakeside, and glad to have turned away from Jess' partner and Jemmy's, for the moment. Something wasn't setting right with him, as he looked around, either, and it was partly a memory of being viciously attacked at a streambed in Nebraska. The scout knew the name of the cold-eyed boss man now, and wondered what he'd be able to do, or keep himself from doing, if he met that Solomon Howell, again.

Coop was more glad than he'd been able to tell the youngster to see young Neddy safe away from those lunatic killers. It was almost like … no, it wasn't seeing Jeff safe home… That was never going to happen. But seeing a youngster safe away from dangerous people… still was a good, warm feeling.

Adam noted what his companions were doing and took the opposite 'flank' from Coop, making his way closer to the lake itself. Slim and Coop were as different from the San Franciscan as they were from each other. And yet despite being northerner and southerner, they were more alike, both belonging, rooted deeply, to these western lands and outlooks. Adam found himself admiring both men more and more, as the tension of this long search stretched everyone's nerves and thinned out everyone's patience.

Coop's sheer courage in taking a nearly murderous beating intended for his younger cousin spoke volumes for a strength of character he'd never lay claim to in so many words. His singular bravery in making an entirely new life following the War was something Adam also thought went unremarked in men like Cooper Smith, too often. And now, if they were all very lucky, and found Jess Harper was taken by 'the Company' Cooper could soon be confronting his lunatic attackers once more… And facing that, as Teo had said, that was a special variety of _muy loco, y muy valiente! _

As for Slim Sherman, though, there was a different story altogether. The young Wyoming rancher, Adam considered, was a very different sort of hero, the quiet, uncompromising, unyielding, unshakably honorable kind who went unremarked, and unrewarded all their lives, as far as the 'real world' measured such matters. Clearly those things meant next to nothing to the rancher, who'd taken the openness, the vision, and the promise of the land that bore him and bred him into his bones, his heart and his spirit.

His family, as he himself shaped and lived it, was the core of this big, broad shouldered, quiet young man's world, of his existence. And now, if they weren't very lucky indeed, Slim would lose a vital part of that family. And facing that, took all the courage and more that Adam could imagine in one man, in one family, or in one lifetime, and then some!

Adam kept looking, and kept smiling at himself as his 'botanist' side went on noting and naming the rest of the flora in and around this small clearing. As the year went on, that part of him knew, even this small corner of Wyoming Territory would go through riotous changes of color, fragrance, texture and shapes in the prairie grasses that covered it for the most part, and different plants, shrubs and smaller trees that thrived here, despite, or maybe because they were dominated and sheltered by the huge cottonwoods.

There were already spiky growths of variant dogwoods, that would either bloom yellow or white, then redden with fall. There was a small collection of smokebush, that before fall would take on the appearance of smoke rising all around it, from it's purple grey blooms. He could see where a batch of yellow currantclove had made it's home, across the clearing from some fragrant sumac, as if not wishing to compete. And almost hidden by some sharp leaved fernleaf buckthorn, because they didn't have their bright red-orange coloring yet, at the base of the copse of cottonwood were definitely some Indian paintbrush, clinging to those obviously ancient growth trees.

And there was definitely something that didn't belong here, not by the laws of nature anyway. Adam was about to exclaim as he saw it, when Slim called out:

''Fellows! Over here! Mose was right! There's something in the lake!''

All three searchers were at the lake's edge in the next moment, staring at what Adam thought had to be the falling top of a small carriage, partially tangled in and floating in the reeds and cattails that lined the water. _Lord, Master of the Universe,_ Adam silently prayed, as he often found himself doing in critical situations. _It is_ _by Your mercy we have life, It is by Your Compassion You give us the strength we need to deal with our griefs and our losses. But, just now, let us implore You, that we find no one, no one at all, least of all the young man we're all seeking, caught underneath that carriage top! _

Adam turned to glance at his companions, now, and saw that even if they used different words and thought of the Deity in a different manner, both young men were making the exact, same prayer. They were also dropping their gunbelts and shucking their boots at the lakeside, and in the next instant, both Slim and Coop were in the water, pulling the heavy material free of it's catch trap. There was no one under that carriage top, Adam saw, on a huge sigh of relief in the next moment.

The two younger men stopped pulling carriage parts out of the water after ten minutes or so, both soaked to the skin and beginning to chill in the breeze coming off the lake. Adam set about gathering kindling and then some branches and efficiently, expertly , to the evident surprise of his companions, built a roaring fire. Then he stretched the rope Slim carried as part of his everyday rancher's gear from one old cottonwood to another, to dry their clothes on, at least as much of their clothes as the two westerners were willing to part with.

''I have to do this all the time for Jem, as he seems constitutionally incapable of coming within proximity of bad guys and any body of water without getting soaked.'' the actor-agent dryly explained, shrugging. ''Truth be told, my partner seems incapable of coming within a mile of bad guys and not having something untoward happen.''

''Guess it's lucky for Jem that he's a doctor, then.'' Slim quipped, still heartened by what they hadn't found in the lake.

''Physician, heal thyself!'' Adam laughed. '' That's what I'm always telling that aggravating young scoundrel, myself. It never seems to work that well, though. I've begun to seriously consider the possibility that he likes trouble. But you've known Jem longer than either of us, Coop. What do you think of my theory?''

''I think for someone of the Friendly persuasion, Jemmy's always been as much a magnet for trouble as anyone else of our relation. Maybe it just runs in the family. But what I really want to know, right now, Adam is do you have a theory as to why somebody pushed what looks to be a whole, entire carriage into this lake, here?'' Coop asked.

''Well, I'm constructing one, even as we speak, But what do you think?'' Adam asked, returning to his other construction project of the moment. This, it turned out, as Slim and Coop watched was turning 'a mess' of eggs, dried herbs and hard, sharp cheese into a late breakfast or early dinner for them that the actor dubbed

an 'omelet'.

''Well, they wanted to get rid of it obviously!'' Slim blurted out before Coop could answer. '' They didn't just push it into the lake, they smashed it up really well, first. There were parts of wooden bow that got cracked in half and then broken up even more, both back wheels were stove in, and that dash rail was hit with something that nearly bent it in half. And we didn't even find the front wheels, the steel bows, or the thorough traces… Off hand, I'd say it would mean whoever did this wasn't up to any good here, no matter what they were doing with that carriage, beforehand. Wouldn't it?''

'' I couldn't have put it better, myself.'' Adam nodded, dishing out food to both younger men. '' It's odd enough that someone wanted to hide an entire park phaeton in that lake. It's even stranger that they felt the need to break it up in pieces to the extent they did.

But what strikes me just at the moment as even more odd, is that they stoppedshort of smashing the rig to even smaller, more easily hidden bits and pieces. That does seem somewhat careless on their part. And the people we've been looking for the past three years haven't shown much inclination to be careless. Quite the reverse in fact has been their modus operandi… ''

''So you think the folks that put this rig into the water here wanted it found?'' Coop asked, after accepting his plate and taking a minute or two to enjoy Adam's cooking.

''It that's so, we've been awfully slow on the uptake. That rig must've been in the water here for weeks, from what I can tell.'' Slim suggested.

''At a first look I'd say it was in the drink there, a good five weeks, maybe more, which is exactly the timeframe we're looking at here.'' Adam nodded, ate some of his omelet and went on. ''I think it's possible that some one of those unknown persons, maybe more than one, but not all, wanted exactly that, for their smashed-up rig to be found, at some point. In fact, if this was done by our latest batch of non-friends, I think this points even more to the divisions in the so called Company, that both Teodor and young Lee Edward took note of, if they were the ones who tried to get rid of this carriage, here.

And I sincerely hope that's true. And I hope even more that they're fighting bitterly among themselves, lying to and doing their worst to trick each other, now. Let there be no love lost between our enemies, please!''

'' From what we found of it, so far, it's a pretty fancy rig to be out here, pretty much in the middle of nowhere, isn't it?'' Coop asked.

'' I'm speculating of course, without seeing all the parts and pieces. But I think it's a ladies phaeton, or what is sometimes called a George the Fourth, because a carriage like that was originally designed for … '' Adam stopped, looking at the younger men, who were both looking at him a bit blankly, now.

'' Okay, we'll get into the details of carriage styles and specifics another time. But you're right, Cooper. The wheels alone show it's a fairly lightweight rig, not meant for these roads at all, much less off road paths and trails like the one we took to find this place. And the dash rail, even the part of the falling top we did find, makes me think it was not only light and meant for towns and cities, but expensive.

In other words, somebody pushed a fairly pricey rig into the lake here, and to me, that means someone needed to get rid of it in a hurry. Or if not, then they had no concern for what replacing it would cost them. And we already know, thanks to the digging Ori and Jere did in N'Olins, that the elder Neddy Morrissey, the one who died nearly six years ago now, was part of a very wealthy family on the Delta, and his sister married into an even richer one, the Pascales. From what we understand, both families had money to burn, and for a long while, so they'd be long since used to extravagant living.''

''And Jem said, by all reports, this Widow Pascale, this crazy woman leading these killers spends her money like there was no tomorrow.'' Slim added, frowning, dry scrubbing at his forehead.

''Maybe if we're all very lucky, we can fix it so there isn't one, not for her, anyway.'' Coop offered, shuddering a bit as he recalled the smooth spoken, calm, lunatic woman he'd encountered along with Solomon Howell.

''We can at least get her locked up for a good long while, if she's as nutty as we've heard.'' Adam agreed. ''I almost hope this Widow is completely off her head. I saw a woman hang once. That was Mary Seurrat at the Old Capitol prison in Washington… That's not something I'd ever want to see again.''

''No, I can't say I'd ever want to see that, either.'' Slim nodded, and stood up, stretching, to reach for his shirt. '' I'm going to go back and see what else I can find beside the lake. Maybe they threw away the name of the next town they've got in mind to hide in.''

''From your mouth to G-d's ears!'' Adam smiled. ''Now, where would a very wealthy, very crazy lady hole up in this part of Wyoming Territory? We know they were quartered at a mansion outside Cheyenne some weeks ago.

But Cheyenne at least has rail lines by the ton coming in and out, making for easy coming and going… And Mac's seen no sign of the Company going back into Nebraska. In fact, we've even had a few agents watching down there, in case she takes her thugs back to N'Olins. And she hasn't, not yet, anyway. Where around here… ''

''The closest spur head to where we are right now is a pretty new one, a place called Pine Bluffs.'' Slim answered.''That's not even half a day's ride from here! Great G-d! Do you think they could be that close, we could be that close to where they've got Jess… assuming they've got him?''

''I'm thinking exactly that, my friend. And I'm thinking that if there's a spur head there's got to be a telegraph station… where I can send for Jemison, Mac and half the Federal agents and marshals from this part of the country!'' Adam happily exclaimed.

'Well, what's wrong with that idea?'' the actor asked as both his companions stopped looking at him and stood stock-still, faces turned towards the road above this Slim loped off towards the road, leaving Adam still more bewildered.

''Nothing's wrong.'' Coop answered, shaking his head and frowning. ''Except I'm thinking my cousin Jess' well known recklessness has rubbed off on his partner. There's at least one rider headed this way, from the direction of that spur-head at Pine Bluffs, and that's likely why Slim headed for the road."

''Well, let's give the fellow some back-up, shall we?'' Adam grinned. ''Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and encounter some wayward members of the Widow Pascale's Company!''

Coop stared and shook his head again, but followed Adam, as the older man followed Slim. ''I thought you said Jemmy was the impetuous one on your team.'' the scout protested.

''He has been, on a great many occassions, that's nothing but the true, as Jem likes to say.'' Adam agreed, already matching Slim pace for pace and stride for stride. '' But, you might not be quite so perplexed, Cooper, if you stopped to consider who he learned that unruly behavior from to begin with.''

''Ah, now I get it.'' Coop laughed, and followed the older man back to the road. What Adam and Coop saw when they found Slim at the roadside was nothing any of the trio honestly expected to find that day or any day, lately. The tall, blond young rancher was grinning wide as the Medicine Bow, holding the bridle of a strong, well muscled dark bay gelding, patting the horse's neck, praising him and happily feeding him some sweet grass from the lakeside. The gelding was carrying his full tack, including the saddle Slim and Mike got Jess for his most recent birthday, saddlebags and a blanket roll.

''This is young Jacob's mount, then?'' Adam guessed.

''This is Traveler, all right. Now I know Jess can't be far from here. Those two are practically inseparable!'' Slim laughed as the bay nudged his arm again and got his reward in the form of a cube of sugar. '' Okay, boy, okay! How'd you get back here without that worrisome Texan who thinks he owns you? C'mon, now. Your Pard, Alamo's down by the lake there, wondering where you've been, suppose you tell us where my Pard's gone off to?''

''I believe our friend Traveler here may be able to tell us exactly that!'' Adam exclaimed, walking closer and making his own calm, friendly approach to the bay. ''Hey, there, Traveler, I suppose you've already heard that the General I work for rode a horse named Cincinnati throughout most of the War. But, you know peace was declared quite some time ago' So, on that basis I'd really like a look inside your … luggage, all right, boy?''

Traveler gave Adam one particularly Jessian-skeptical glance, then he stood contentedly still while Coop joined Slim in soothing and petting him. With that accomplished, Adam opened each saddle bag and finding nothing helpful, then he unstrapped and unrolled the blanket. Before the bottom of the worn wool cover could hit the ground, Adam grinned again and pulled a long, thin metal tube from its folds. This, the agent quickly broke open and removed an even thinner roll of paper.

'' I wish Jem were here just at the moment.'' the actor murmured, glancing over the scrawled handwriting on the sheet as he opened it. '' If only because he's the best at ciphers and deciphering of anyone in the Service.''

'' Then you don't know what it says or where it came from?'' Coop asked bluntly.

''Oh, I know exactly where or better put, who this came from, it's written in a cipher our friend and partner Giles Boudin taught Jem some years ago. The two of them use it almost exclusively when sending covert communiqués like this one to each other. Giles sent this, with our young gelding, to let us know what he's learned since the Company reunited after leaving Cheyenne.

We were absolutely right, in what we were speculating about, earlier, my friends. The Company is now in Pine Bluffs, or more precisely, as young Lee Edward suggested, at a property they've either leased or traded for, outside the spur head, a property interestingly enough called Widow's Retreat.''

''Adam, if you can tell all that at just one glance, why'd you say you wish Jem was here to read the cipher?'' Slim demanded, suddenly not sure if he should be elated or more frightened for Jess than ever.. ''And more important, does your friend Giles say Jess is with them? Adam, does he say … how my partner is … now?''

''Yes, in fact, Giles and another source we have within the Company, have seen him, there alive, and … intermittently conscious, this report says.

It may be your partner that he was injured, he has been ill, and feverish perhaps… ''

''But alive!'' Slim whispered, knowing it was the best news he'd had in weeks and the best he'd been able to take home to his family, without bringing Jess home at the same time. ''What else, Adam? What else does your friend Giles say?''

''Well this is … this is really the answer to your first question. Giles seems to be saying the Widow Pascale has kept 'this young stranger from east Texas' as the rest of the Company calls him, at her side from the moment she arrived at their new quarters. Giles seems to be saying the Widow Pascale is tending to the young man's injuries… injuries my friend Giles seems to be saying members of her Company inflicted on her orders.

That's what I'm not sure I'm reading correctly, if only because it makes no sense whatever to me. Why would she tend to a man herself, who, as we already know from what happened to you, Cooper, she intended this sort of harm to all this while? I can't come up with an answer to that, at least not one I much care for.''

''She's drugging Jess the same way her damn all Colonel Howell did me, back on the North Platte! Is that what you're comin' up with? The Widow's looking to get my cousin all tangled up and needing that poison?'' Coop asked, as Slim stayed quiet, rubbing at his neck and shaking his head.

''Well, yes and no.'' Adam told him. ''Sorry, that doesn't sound more hopeful. But hear me out a moment. Giles seems to be telling us that the Widow is personally seeing to the care given this young Texan. We haven't found any evidence to date of Madame Pascale being this closely involved in the treatment given to those persons who survived the Company's assaults.

In fact, Teo said there were rumors during the entire length of his time with the Company that either Eugenie Pascale herself or her brother Lee Morrissey preserved a conspicuous distance between the Widow and the Company's victims. So, something has changed here. Something is definitely different in the way the Widow is behaving. A lot of changes are going on in that band of killers, and G-d willing, all to our advantage! If that weren't so, another of our friends inside that compound wouldn't have been able to let Traveler here slip away and head … I'd have to guess, for home either last night or just today.''

'' All right.'' Slim finally said, looking from Coop to Adam and back again.'' All right. How do we get Jess away from that band of killers? How do we get my partner back home safe, now that we know for certain sure they have him?''

''Well, I was thinking about that before our equine courier arrived.'' Adam answered, grinning cheerily at them. '' And I was thinking that the bad guys still have no way of guessing we've caught up to them. And they won't, if we're very, very careful in how we play this from here on out. Just for starters, as I was already considering, I'll steal a page from Jem's usual con.

I'll go up into these hills, in particular the hills outside that spur-head, in the guise of a newly minted robber baron. I'll go in as a genuine dude, perhaps, trying to make his way back to some semblance of modern civilization, after getting outrageously lost in these mountains. It's one of my best cons, too, in fact, acting the completely bewildered greenhorn…

Cooper, you've been a guide, a scout for years now. Do you think you're up to acting the part of one who got a lot of laughs and a wad of cash trying to get this dude, me, that is, un-lost and back to Pine Bluffs? Or would you like to try your hand at this scam, Slim? We're not so close to Laramie now that folks there would recognize you, would they?'' Adam stopped firing off questions and stopped to study Coop's long face, again. ''What's bothering you, Coop?'' he then asked the Texan.

''Are you reading my mind these days, too, like Miss Daisy's started in doing?'' Coop asked, frowning at the actor, as he pulled down and pulled his own shirt back on, again.

''No, I was reading your gestures and your posture more than anything else. You're standing over there with your shoulders hunched, and your right fist up against your mouth. So, it seemed to me theres likely to be something you either don't want to think, or you don't want to say just now. So, which is it?''

'' What if it's both?'' the scout asked, instead of answering.

''I didn't mean to leave that out of the equation. So, it's both, what is it you don't want to think, right now?'' Adam probed.

'' You're one danged stubborn fellow, Adam Gordonson.'' Coop stalled him.

'' I am that. But that's not what's bothering you right now, or you'd have already said so. And you can't get anything accomplished while you're that busy stewing, can you? So c'mon, tell uncle Adam what the trouble is?'' the actor laughed.

''Jemmy said you can be danged annoying, you know. Now I'm beginnin' to see why he'd say that about his partner!'' Coop protested, then shrugged. '' I'm thinking about that _loca, _Adam, that lunatic woman who very well might have my cousin in her bloody hands, right this minute, now! I'm thinkin about how she rode… astride, a big steel dust gelding, and cradled a double barreled shotgun as if she'd been doin' both those things since she could walk!

And on top of that, I'm thinkin' how she thought I was Jess, and meant for her thugs to beat me, to beat him, within an inch of his life, and drug and … I don't even want to know what else… and sat there makin' conversation about our family, as if she were at a danged church social!''

''And more than that, I'm guessing, of course, but guessing based on what I know about the people who raised you and Jemison both, you have a vast amount of compassion in your nature, my friend. And because of that empathy, you're also tied in knots, as we all have been. You're thinking how _esa muy loca_, as Teodor rightly calls her, this Widow, has sent her thugs out to hurt or to kill scores of people, only because, as far as we know, they might know something of what happened to her tragic, younger brother!'' Adam offered.

''Yeah. I'm thinkin' about that, too, and how much Jess is gonna hate what happened to a lot of his old company because they rode with the other, older Neddy Morrissey!'' Coop agreed. '' Jess is gonna … purely hate it.''


	18. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Lodge at Widow's Retreat Compound,

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

The amnesiac patient lay waiting once more for the woman he only knew as 'the lady' to come back and ease his increasing pain and even more sharply rising fear. Once more he was losing all the warmth and comfort he had in her presence, and from the medicine she gave him. Once more he was painfully aware of needing both her company and the drugs now, to stay on anything like an even keel.

But the lady had been called away, again, sometime just lately. He couldn't seem to keep hold on when or how or where things happened to him. He felt as if he lost himself and his whole, entire badly shrunken world when she was gone. He felt as though he came back to birth and life again when she spoke and read and smiled. And when he woke to find her missing, all his oldest nightmares of loneliness, despair and isolation seemed to rise and bait him like crowds of vengeance seeking ghosts all around him.

He didn't recognize them, their origins, or their sources any longer. He didn't know why the merest mention of fires shook him like a fever. He didn't know why he felt weighted down with remorse and self-hatred. He'd lost his memory completely, so that nothing was familiar now, except 'the lady's' warmth and the prosecutor's rages. He couldn't seem to understand much these days except his pleasure in her presence, his racketing pain without the drugs, and his great terror whenever his tall, black-maned, wild eyed enemy returned.

''Jaimey, Phillips, '' the prosecutor's voice now called out, not from the other room but from the foot of the cot the young patient lay on. ''Circumstances it seems, have altered cases, once more. Take this young interloper back to the other rooms. You know the ones I mean. He has no business here, for the present. And most certainly he has no business whatsoever eavesdropping on ours.''

'' N-No! I… I'm… t' wait… I'm waitin'… for her…'' the patient insisted, pushing himself up onto his elbows against the stack of pillows.

''She has far more important matters to deal with, just at present, than some young rowdy, I do assure you. And you have overstepped your bounds, to say the least, with these foolish attempts to persuade her of the supposed merits of your own case! She is a genteel, gently bred woman of the highest quality! She can have no real interest in your situation, you know.

You and she stand at polar opposites, I tell you, as if you did not already know that to be the core truth of the matter. And yet you demean her charitable nature, you importune on her compassionate soul! And I strongly suspect you'd gladly debase her exceptionally fine spirit if you thought for even one instant she'd allow you to do anything of the kind! Well, sir, even if you should be as regrettably absurd as to attempt that, I shall not permit, I shall not allow, I shall not sanction any such behavior from you!''

''Wh-what makes you … think … I … '' the patient began to snarl, staring at the tall, wild eyed, and black haired prosecutor. '' I don'… mean her… any … any least kinda harm! I … I .. know… She… told me… she's… m-ma-married!''

'' I was right! You do have only a low and degraded understanding of the world! But even such a worthless whelp as you must be aware there is more than one means by which a woman's gentler nature can be taken advantage of! You have made great strides, up till now, great strides indeed, winning her to your side of the issues we have yet to address before the tribunal! You have almost persuaded her of your supposed innocence in all those matters.

Well, even if you have wholly, entirely deceived her, young sir, you have done nothing of the kind with me! Therefore, in order to ensure justice is served in your case, you shall henceforth be removed from her … presence completely. No more begging off, no more excuses, and believe me, young sir, there shall be no further significant delays, either! You are greatly recovered, as anyone seeing and hearing you can tell. Therefore, you will face the tribunal, directly the present matter before it is finally resolved!''

'' I ain't … I ain't done… no, I … I ain't done anythin' to be … tried for.'' the younger man, trying his best not to start shaking again, protested.

'' Truly? Is that what you truly believe? Or is that what you think you know as the truth of this matter?'' the prosecutor laughed even more coldly. '' Or is that only what you wish you could believe? Is that merely what you wish were true? Yes, yes, so I thought. You aren't going to answer me on those questions unless I compel a truthful answer from you!''

''She… she said 'm not… not… crazed… She … she said you… weren't… t' come back…'' the patient told the man towering over him, swallowing hard on the coppery fear that cold figure inspired.

'' Yes, yes, so I very well recall. Well, she's not here now, is she? She had a matter come up which she had no choice but to see to directly, and in person. She left your side, again. And after all her protestations that she would not let you remain alone? How very fickle a woman can be! How very faithless the weaker gender is! A sad commentary, but hardly a new one.

They are all the daughters of Eve, after all. And now this particular unfaithful one, has left you here, as it happens with her two boys. But you see, these two boys, who have shown her such devotion in times past when she needed them so terribly, and thereby won her entire devotion and trust, presently take my orders. No, that is simply one more thing I do not intend 'the lady' finding out.

Phillips, Jaimey, this conversation becomes more and more futile. Take him to the rooms I have previously designated. And once there you will follow the instructions I previously issued fully, and to the letter. You need have no concern about being interrupted. I have that situation well in hand. It is only certain unbelievably credulous persons who seem to think otherwise. Go on, now. And most of all, boys, do all that is required to keep this unquestionably wearisome person quiet, at least until I can spare him more than a moment of my own increasingly valuable time.''

''She … doesn't… she's not… she's…. just …'bout… perfect'' the patient on

the cot repeated, as the two servants silently obeyed their newer, higher paying 'employer', Heydon Palmerston Moray. He was already feeling the kind of stupor the drug injections created.

In the next instant, they were once more injecting the young Texan with an even stronger dose. Their 'patient' had some resistance to lower dosages by now, especially those he had in soup or tea or broth. But at higher doses, given intravenously, Moray knew, from various experiences of his own, the patient had no time, and no chance to fight the drug's effect. Try as the young man on the cot might, he was losing his 'handholds', and his feeling of shelter, of safety, and of sanity, yet again.

The prosecutor's voice and presence was all around him now, nearly suffocating him, it seemed. Instead of the warmth and ease he'd felt with the first dose, now he was struggling to breath, struggling to think or even move and not winning those battles either. And what was stranger than all that was the way the icy voice began to seem like one he remembered from some long past time. But he could no more say how than he could say when. Now he was fighting to get some sense of what the bitter voice was saying and that was harder by the instant, too, even though he felt certain sure it mattered greatly.

''Yes, indeed. So she'd like us all to believe, at any rate.'' Moray agreed. ''Just as you would, undoubtedly like us all to believe you never once in your life set so much as a shed, a shack or a lean-to afire! But for now, young sir, I do insist that you remember the truth of the matter as we already know is set down on the record.

But no matter what you'd like The Widow to believe, you are a lunatic, young sir, and the grandchild of another lunatic, as well. And so with you and your mad behaviors, your wantonly destructive acts, it is merely a case of the old aphorism, isn't it, the one that says 'blood runs thicker than water', or should that be the one that says, 'the truth will out'… or some combination of those two…

You are hopelessly insane, unless of course that's just another lie you've conjured up in your own defense! It matters not. It signifies nothing, believe me! You are of no real significance here whatever! You are no more than an annoyance, a barely noticeable obstacle, and an almost indiscernible stumbling block! And even as we speak, I am in process of removing you once and forever from my path! Removing such minor difficulties from my way is nothing new to me, young Harper!

Strangely enough, this turns out to be the second and last time I needs must toss you from my way! Stranger still, as it now appears, you have no recollection of our first encounter. I suppose I might have left things stand as they were, had I known you were possessed of that particular gap in your memory. But how foolish would I have been to take a chance of that nature? How reckless would I have been to allow the potential threat you represented to continue unchecked, unchallenged?

I will admit, since you can hardly challenge or perhaps even understand me at present, that I'd quite forgotten you. I'd certainly forgotten the name of the boy our 'dearest young master Edward Denys' brought to that receiving hospital in Atlanta with him when both he and you were wounded. I'd all but forgotten your appearance, as well. No doubt you look somewhat differently now than you did in the autumn of '64.

Years can certainly alter a man's appearance, especially when that man was all but a boy himself, when last seen. That signifies exactly nothing, now I have you, utterly in my power. And as you were raised to believe, I don't doubt, having known some Southern Presbyterian preachers inmy time, that we are all sealed into one Fate, one Doom or another,from the Foundation of the World! And there's certainly nothing to be done about the time and place you and Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey the Second were fated to encounter me in Atlanta that fall.

It was a time of many fated encounters, some people still seem to think. It was a dangerous, deadly, and highly gainful time as well. And those of us graced with native foresight …gained greatly during the Conflict. It was a simple matter of tremendous demand, being met by a trickling at best of supply. It was merely an instance of taking note and taking the benefit there was to be had in such tremendous measure.

But it was purely good business, despite the opprobrium some people insist on applying to it, with words like profiteering, embezzlement and black-market enterprises! And it was rife during the height of the Crisis! Well, that's my part of the matter.

You can't understand that anymore now than you could at the time, I don't doubt, Harper. You have no sense of what a gentleman's existence is and needs must be. You have no comprehension whatever of how the lack of proper amenities, resources and services are perfectly poisonous to a gently bred person's spirit! You know nothing of how poverty can afflict the true-born noble born heart and mind How could you?

Nothing in your life or upbringing taught you to cherish those finer things! So, for some years it seemed I could not quite bring myself to blame you for showing such ignorance about my aristocratic status, my well bred needs and the means and dealings by which I sustained and met them! For some years I thought I need not be concerned with what a rough mannered, ill spoken boy from east Texas thought of my business transactions during the Conflict.

Instead, I concentrated on our dear Edward Denys, our beloved young Neddy! He was raised as much a true gentleman as I, albeit in N'Olins, rather than Charleston! He was gently bred and well taught in all the finest tastes and pleasures, as far as I could ever determine! He was a cultured youth and surely would have, most certainly should have become a full fledged aristocrat someday! Instead, he fell in love with your wildly romantic and romanticized band of youthful ruffians masquerading as cavalrymen when they came to N'Olins.

Our dearest Neddy fell madly in love with your regiment, Mr Harper, to be more precise, with your 8th Texans! In other words, Neddy was quite overly awed by you and your wild cohort! And in that instant he was lost to all those who knew and loved him. In that instant Neddy apparently found himself desirous of becoming equally as wild and equally as rough as you or any of your companions were then.

And he never truly came back to the life or the world he left behind early that first summer of the Conflict. Neddy, as he had been, vanished from the earth forever. He died, in a great many ways, then and there. What followed was the birth, the creation of a wholly other person alive within his frame and speaking from his spirit.

And so, here we now both are, you and I, Harper. You, entirely helpless and at my disposal, finally, and I with my hands on all the power and means to sustain it I could wish for… at present. You lay there, hearing without understanding anything I've said. And surely even someone of your limited capacity could have guessed I'd say nothing of this if I thought you grasped one single syllable I spoke!

I'm an attorney, after all, an Officer of the Court. I know what can be and what should be done, what should be permitted in such circumstances. And I know what cannot and should not be allowed, or admitted just as well. And even if I thought you comprehended me now, it would be of no matter. Everyone in this complex, with the unlikely exception of our mad Mistress, our dearest Widow Pascale knows precisely how violent, how dangerous and how utterly insane you are.

No one in this complex, perhaps I may include Herself in this grouping, will believe anything you say against me… well, no one who will signify in these matters for much longer. I have the situation very well in hand, you need no longer have any concerns on that issue. I am in control here, now, and so I shall continue to be, long after you cease to continue in any way whatsoever.


	19. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Laramie/Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

The argument about how to go after both Jess and his captors had gone on

for hours, now. Coop, Jemmy, Slim, Rand Alexander, and Ori Hoynes

all thought an armed diversion or 'demonstration' below the Company's latest quarters, followed by an all out assault was the quickest, surest way to get what and who they wanted. Adam, Mac, Mort Corey, Rand's partner Chris Phillipsen, and his half-brother Tierney Robertson, along with Danny Hoffner, and his brother Jere, deeply disagreed.

''All right, you fire-eaters are going to listen to me right now, this minute!'' Thomas Macquillan finally ordered the disgruntled trio in front of him, Slim Sherman, Jemmy Singer, and Cooper Smith.

'' Let me make myself absolutely clear. We've spent over a year on this investigation. So there is no way I'm allowing you, or anyone else, to simply throw all our time and all our work away at the last minute! You are therefore not going ahead with any wild-eyed notions of a headlong attack on these murdering maniac's compound! You all went through the War, along with most of the men we all know. You all saw what happens when a heavily fortified position is attempted by a frontal assault! Do I really need to pull out the laundry list of the times and places that NEVER WORKED AT ALL?

All right, I will! First Bull Run, Second Bull Run, Seven Pines, most if not all of the Peninsula Campaign in '62, the second day at Shiloh, the Bloody Lane at Antietam, Fredericksburg, I know is another example you won't soon forget, will you, Jemmy? And after that, we had the failed charges

on the earthworks at Vicksburg, Little Round Top and the Angle at Gettysburg, at Cold Harbor, Spottsylvania, and the Crater! It's a wonder to me, sometimes that the War was won at all or that there were any soldiers left to see the Armistice!''

''Mac, we're not exactly talking about charging Bobbie Lee, here, you know.'' Jemmy countered.

''Nor Sam Grant.'' Coop couldn't help adding.

'' Or Stonewall Jackson, either.'' Slim commented.

''And none of those facts actually comforts me one bit, my friends.'' Macquillan told them, his hazel eyes dark with worry and not a little of his own frustration. ''And I'm the one who's responsible for what this team does or doesn't accomplish, you might remember. I'm the one President Grant expects a full report and a successful outcome from, as it happens.''

''Well, I don't think President Grant is actually expecting anything at all from Coop or me, as it happens. '' Slim calmly noted, folding his arms across his strong chest now. '' In fact, I don't recall either of us signing on as Federal agents. Did we, Coop?''

''Never onct.'' Coop answered, grinning. ''Kinda doubt they'd have me, for one thing, bein' I was a Rebel. They'd likely glom right onto you, though, Slim. You'd best look out and don't sign anything these fellas hand you.''

'' I wouldn't dream of it, Coop.'' Slim chuckled. '' Sorry, Mac. No disrespect meant. But we don't work for you, much less for the President, and neither does my partner Jess, and he's the one trapped somewhere in that compound.''

''Yes, he is, surrounded by, according to our most recent information, by something close to eighty well armed, willing murderers, including the lunatic woman who leads them, and the maniac who nearly succeeded in killing you, Cooper. Against that, with the best will in the world right now, we have Jemmy and Adam, of course, you, Cooper, you Slim, and your friend, Sheriff Corey, myself, Ori, young Rand Alexander and Chris Phillipsen, Tierney Robertson, Jeremy Hoffner, and his older brother Danny all here.

And since we've all sworn we won't allow young Neddy to go anywhere near The Widow again, that's all we have outside the complex. That's eleven of us here, right now. Now, with the help of Sheriff Corey, we have some hope that a good dozen, maybe even fifteen or twenty marshals from western Nebraska, eastern Wyoming and northern Colorado will be here to help out in another couple days. But, you all know it could be another week, more likely a fortnight, before we could can expect any more agents here, much less any support in the way of troops, from Fort Laramie, Fort Collins or as a last resort, Fort Kearney.

And inside that place, because we never got the time or the wherewithal to do it, we still have Rafe Tierney, Kiery Tanner, Matty Randolph, Giles Boudin, Brody Hamilton, Addison Deveraux, and two of Jemmy's medical school mentors, Gabriel Colville and Noach Deveraux. That's eight friends up there, who may be in as much trouble as young Jess is, by this time, if anything's happened to blow their cover. '' Mac sighed.

'' So, now, just how do you come to believe that at most a force of thirty-nine men, including 'old crows' like me, Giles, Gabe, Noach and Danny can even try to assault a fortified camp held by twice times our number?'' the Bostonian asked.

''Oh, the usual ways, Thomas, old friend.'' Adam quipped. ''You know, using guile, cunning treachery, and the always helpful element of surprise, as required. And by the way, thanks for not counting me among the 'old crows', just then.''

'' What makes you think I wasn't counting you, just then, old friend?'' Macquillan demanded, just barely cracking a smile.

'' Because Adam's the youngest fellow on the team, I'd have to guess.'' Slim suggested, based on the jokes he'd heard between these friends and partners.

''Thank you, thank you.'' Adam grinned, nodding. ''Mac's right, you know, and so am I, for once. We can't afford to go at that place full throttle. We don't have the manpower or the armament for that. And the news I just got by way of one of Giles' passenger pigeons isn't making our chances sound much better.''

''What?' What news? What'd he say?'' Coop, Slim and Jemmy all demanded, together.

''Patience, patience!'' Adam told them, unfolding the newly arrived message. ''All will be revealed. It's coded, but I managed to get the gist, I think. Jem, I think you and Giles are the ones who invented this particular cipher… What is it, a reverse, reverse alpha numeric, or something even more convoluted than that?''

Jemmy took the small sheet of paper from his partner and squinted at it, canting his head thoughtfully as he read the text.

'' No, partner, this is a plain old reverse numeric alphabetic code, with a tad bit of Giles' Haitian-French slang thrown in for good measure and more confusion. Giles says the split we heard about between factions of the Company looked to be splitting even wider for a time.

But now they're all acting chummy again, or at least, less openly hostile towards each other. And Giles thinks that's because most of them are realizing the danger of having their necks stretched or at least being thrown in the Territorial prison! Or, he thinks a lot the ones who broke off with Neddy's father are drifting back to his side of things, again.

Damn it! We needed those factions fighting! They were killing each other off, we hoped! They were splintering more and more, while Teo and Rand and Chris were still riding with them. There goes our best chance at keeping them well and truly distracted while we make our move!''

''And what about Jess?'' Slim demanded, impatiently. '' Did he see Jess up there? Did he talk to him? Jemmy, did your friend Giles even find out if Jess is still…'' The rancher stopped short of finishing his question. He couldn't get his tongue or his mind to wrap around the rest of the words, right now.

''No, Slim.'' Jemmy answered, knowing there was no way he could ease

this for the compassionate young rancher who'd so befriended his younger Texas cousin. '' This message from Giles only says that he's been told 'the young Texan' is being held in a hunting lodge on the northern rim of the property. But as you already know, we have every reason to believe the only young Texan still up there is my cousin Jess. ''

''Then what do we do, now fellows? We can't sit around and wait another fortnight so we can hit them with equal or greater numbers. I can get another dozen, maybe more friends from around Laramie, surely. But even coming from that close by, it would take two, three days at least! So, what do we do, now? How do we get Jess out of there, with this kind of odds in those… killer's favor?'' Slim demanded, frowning as darkly as Jemmy and Mac and Coop were.

The tall young rancher didn't like losing his temper so openly. It wasn't the way he was raised or taught to act. But the search for Jess had taken well over a month now, with no results and little encouragement, if any. And right now it seemed to Slim that they were spending a lot more time arguing about and wondering what the band of killers who had his partner and young Neddy's father, than getting anything like a rescue effort going. A peaceful, patient man in almost any circumstances, Slim knew he couldn't sit and wait much longer to help his friend.

Jess had been, by his own admission, a gun-hand and a rode hard and put up wet drifter when he came to the Sherman ranch. The young Texan had made it clear as daylight he wasn't sure he could stay there, or anywhere for any time. His broken past was what kept Jess moving, kept him 'on the drift' since the War's end. His 'holdings just then had been a big bay gelding, some tack, including a well-worn sturdy saddle, a repeating rifle and several revolvers. His prospects then had been, again as Jess put it himself, about as barren as the nearest boot-hill and as narrow as a new-made grave there.

But that edgy, touchy drifter wasn't the man Slim and the others were looking for, now. Somehow, with the encouragement of an open-hearted

boy named Andy, who had a knack for finding and keeping 'strays', Jess managed finally, to settle in and settle down. Somehow, to the surprise of

a wary young rancher named Slim, Jess stopped acting as if, saying or, thinking he'd 'have to get back to 'the Big Open' again. The tumbleweed put down roots and found a home again, at long last. The rolling stone rolled up to the ranch house door, then right on past the threshold, and stopped there, on a rickety old rocking chair beside the fireplace.

More than that, the young Texan soon proved himself a real brother to both Shermans. Time and again, Jess showed his worth, his hard-won and even harder-fought, fire-tried principles and his adamant faithfulness to his new family. Despite, or maybe because of their outward differences, Jess and Slim found themselves a well-matched, remarkable team. Working hard every single day together, they built a home and family, that flourished, thrived and grew, taking into a wider and wider circle Jonesy, and Andy back in St. Louis, Mike and Daisy at home, Francie and Ben out in California, young Danny in Texas, Mort Corey and old Mose, just for starters.

That family was being tested again, now. And Slim was proud of the strength and hope they could raise in yet another time of trouble. And it scared him, wondering what would happen if they lost Jess, now. The chances of that seemed to wane and wax as the search went on. The help and hopes and prayers of a lot of folks who Jess probably didn't know gave a care for him were a great deal of what kept Daisy, Mike and Slim going these days.

It warmed Slim and gave him what little hope he had just now, that Jess had two such staunch friends as his cousins Coop and Jem. It lifted Slim's heart to see how Jem's partners willingly searched for and wanted only to help a man they'd never met, too. The former drifter and gunfighter had 'lived on my lonesome' as Jess put it, for far too long. But Jess was needed as badly back on the Sherman Ranch as he needed to be there. Somehow that lonesome 'tumbleweed' named Jess Harper had made himself vital to everyone there, and a whole lot more folks in and around Laramie. They refused to do without him now, just because a band of killers thought otherwise.

_I'm getting you safe away from them, Jess. I swear, I will! _Slim fervently promised his absent partner._ I promised Mike and Daisy both I'd bring you home to them. And I didn't mean so we could lay you to rest beside Mom and Pop up on the hill there! So, hold on, Jess! Just hold on, a little while longer. These fellows are pretty smart, and they may have a way around this boondoggle. But if they don't, Pard, I'll be on my way any time now!_

_I know how much our home and family mean to you, Jess. You show that every time you turn around at the gate and look back. You show that every time you kiss the top of Daisy's head or ruffle Mike's hair and call him 'Tiger'. You show that every time you step up and back me up, or tell me off, whichever's most needful. And when I get you home again, Pard, I may spend some time telling you off, just as soon as all three of us get done hugging the stuffing out of you!_

Slim shook his head. What worried him most of all right now, that he couldn't imagine explaining to Coop or Jemmy or anyone but Daisy Cooper, was that he couldn't get a feeling for where or how Jess was right now. The mutual understanding, the wordless instinct they shared was a big part of what made them brothers, as much or more than Slim was to Andy or Jess, to his brother Danny, either.

It made them a hard team to beat in a fight, too, any kind of fight, Slim had learned. Now he'd walk into and straight through Perdition, if he had to, to get his brother home again.

_''Don't you ever get tired of pullin' me outa scrapes?'' _Jess asked his partner in a memory that made Slim quietly smile, now as it had at the time.

_'' Nope. Good ranch hands are hard to find.'' _Slim answered, keeping a deliberately light tone of voice for his wounded, weary, disillusioned and not a little heart-broken friend, on the way back from Tumavaca._ '' Besides, you promised Andy you'd come home.'' _

_''Home.'' _Jess nodded_. ''That's a nice word.'' _

_''It is, isn't it? I kinda like it myself.'' _Slim agreed, in his memory and again, now. _But this time_ _it wasn't you, Jess. This time, it was me promising Mike you'd be home, this time, Jess. But the same thing holds true now as then. You have a home now. We have a home and a family to take care of. So, no arguments, Pard, you're coming home. And you're staying put, this time._ Slim insisted_. _

_I think I like that idea, Pard. _Jess, at least in his partner's weary imagination now piped up._ I think I could get used to stayin' put, to not bein a danged tumbleweed, anymore. Just don't…_

_I know, Jess, I know. Don't put up any more No Trespassing signs. After all, who knows what danged tumbleweed might decide to tie their mount to one of them and take a nap, sometime. _Slim smiled again, answering his partner.

''Ahem.'' Adam said, coughing politely, as he walked over to the rancher. '' Did you find any interesting wool to gather just then, Matthia… I mean, Slim? Because if not, Coop just had a very interesting suggestion to make about how to use our current dearth of numbers.''

''Uh, oh, sorry. What's your idea, Coop?'' Slim asked, looking at Jess' cousin.

'' I was suddenly struck with the thought of a resurrection, truth be told.'' Coop answered, chuckling. ''In fact, I was thinking we could really use two

of those, to really shake things up for our .. non-friends, as Adam calls them, up in that compound.

''A resurr… what?'' Slim asked. ''A resurrection? Two of them? Coop, I know I'm kinda tired today. But I don't begin to get what you're suggesting.''

'' The people we're after, the ones who took me for Jess are real likely to think I died, after they got done with me, back in Nebraska. Not only that, they think they've got Jess Harper, the man they've been hunting for six years now, up there behind their own little stone capped redoubt.

And from talking and listening to my friend Teo, and his friends young Neddy, Rand and Chris, the Company thinks he died at their quarters near Cheyenne. So that's two fellows, Teo, or as far as they're concerned, 'the late Tyler Pierce' and me, they won't ever expect to see traipsing up their hill or around their fort.

So, it seems to me, and I'm pretty sure the same idea was poppin' up for Teo, just the other day, that walkin' a couple of ghosts around a lot of already kinda jumpy fellows… might not be such a bad distraction. And on top of that, if I tell them they've still got the wrong cousin from east Texas, don't you think that might start up an argument or two… between some of those way too chummy fellows?'' Coop asked, his wide, crooked grin stretching even wider.

'' Cooper, I believe you have the makings of a master-spy!'' Adam chortled. ''Well done, well done! Bravo! That's a first rate example of just the tactics I was talking about.''

''Well, thanks, Adam, I think.'' Coop laughed. '' Where's Teo? I want to see if he was really thinking along the same lines I am.''

''I'm right here, _compadre_.'' Teo Bracamante answered, grinning as he walked into the sitting room Mac's team was using for its strategy sessions. Everyone in the room turned to greet the Creole, and immediately knew the answer to Coop's question. Teo was wearing roughly the same outfit he'd arrived at North Platte in, weeks ago, following the 'death' of his alter ego, faded denims and a worn, dark shirt, the latter half hidden by a fully loaded bandolier.

'' And I have just two questions: Where's this séance? And when does it start?'' the Creole asked with a grin as wide as the Gulf of Mexico, at the very least.

''Top of the hill, Teo, just outside town, I'd say.'' Coop answered, knowing he'd be more than a little glad to have Teo along for this gambit. ''When, though… I'd think we'd better get up there, and get a look see into the place, a little before sundown. Night marches were never much to my liking, especially when I didn't know the ground. How does that sound?''

''It sounds completely, completely insane.'' Jemmy grumbled. ''And like it just might work, I hate to say. But there's one thing you need to think long and hard about, Cooper, before you set foot on that hill. The man who nearly killed you a month ago and a little more, Solomon Howell is one of the maniacs sitting up there. And I very much want to take him to trial for that, and for the murders of Melissa Burke and her little son. So, you won't get any wild ideas about what's to become of Colonel Howell, now, will you, Cousin?''

''Nary a one, Cousin.'' Coop assured him, with a warm smile for the Carolinian. ''Nary a one. You see, I already had this particular little talk with our mutual friend Chris, before he finally agreed to get back to that train he runs. And Chris wouldn't quit till he had my sworn word I wouldn't take after Howell all on my own, or repay their 'boss man' for that little set-to we had, all by myself, either, Jem. "m not sayin' I wouldn't like to bust his head for him. 'm just sayin' I won't.''

''Fine, then. Adam, I don't know, though. Don't you think Teo… that is, Tyler here looks a little too healthy to be a proper ghost? I think he could use your help with that before he tries scaring _esos locos.'' _Jemmy asked his partner.

'' Jem, Adam, all due respect, amigos mios, I really don't want to go up there wearing greasepaint.'' Teo protested. ''Who says ghosts have to be pale as … well … ghosts, anyhow?''

'' All the best spies in history were actors, first, Teo, old man.'' Adam answered, chuckling. ''You need to go back and read Thuycidides, Herodotus and Plutarch's Lives, for that matter. Phillip of Macedon, for just one example always used itinerant dramatists as his clandestine emissaries.''

''Adam,'' Macquillan said, sensing the actor agent was about to embark on a lecture.

''For one thing, they, the actors, I mean, were devotees of Dionysus and Apollo, and therefore considered sacred, in the sense that it would be sacrilege to harm them. '' Adam went on, utterly unconcerned.

''Adam,'' Teo said, knowing the actor was fully embarked now on at least a three hour lecture.

'' You really need to go back and study the classics, my friend… Not only are they amazing writings, but you can find out things you never knew before and …''

''ADAM!'' Jemmy finally shouted, in full Regular Army command mode.

''What's the matter, Jem?'' Adam asked, his expression and tone completely innocent.

''Not the sacredness of actors lecture. Not right now, all right, partner?

We do have a few other things to work out here.''

''Oh, well, surely, Jemison. Surely.'' Adam agreed, winking at Teo. ''Whatever you say, Jem, old man.''

''Thanks.'' Jemmy sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward in a despairing-laughing way. ''Back to work then. What was that latest idea you came up with, partner?''

''Well, I've had several, lately, partner.'' Adam grinned. '' But I think you're referring to the one I've been suggesting at every one of these meetings for days now, and getting shouted down each time. So, my question is, are your fire-eaters going to listen to me, now, Jem? Or do my nay-sayers have to do this on our own?''

''We're listening, Adam. I promise you, we're listening.'' Jemmy agreed, rolling his eyes towards heaven.

'' Well it goes something like this, my friends, Pine Bluffs is essentially nothing more than a railroad spur-head at this stage of its development. In other words, there's nothing much to this little hamlet than the railway station they're still building, the railroad worker's camp, two churches, three boarding houses, three banks, the Company's compound up on that hillside, one hotel, five saloons, four bordellos, and the one absolute essential to the existence of all else here, one lonesome telegraph station.

Now, we've already made fine use of the latter, gentlemen, sending word and sending for half the Federal agents and all the Federal marshals in this part of the country. What I'm suggesting is that we haven't yet and we truly should make good use of several of the other local establishments, using them for all the diversion we should need and they can surely offer, with our … cooperation. And with the help of some exceptional lady-friends from Cheyenne, Denver, and, yes, as I'm sure Sheriff Corey's aware, from Laramie, too, we'd have the makings of all the diversions we'll ever need.

Unless I'm very much mistaken, only a handful of the Company has had the chance to go off duty and partake of … shall we say, the ummm… local pleasures? Young Neddy told us there were no more than seven or eight men who came to Cheyenne seeking him some weeks back. The others haven't been, well … diverted in some time, I'd have to guess. And if we can't get them to come off their hillside, well, I'd strongly favor a full out assault by any number of … 'soiled doves', to take their minds off their troubles.

That being said, though, the notion that Cooper and Teodor should take this opportunity to confuse our current adversaries as badly as possible, surely sounds like a fine gambit. And' to that I'd merely add the suggestion that I take my turn, and take a page from Jemison's usual con, and make my way about Pine Bluffs in the guise of a bewildered eastern visitor, a genuine dude, or a newly-minted robber-baron. Failing that I could easily approach the Widow Pascale and her Company by assuming the identity of the indubitably naïve, and very wealthy man they acquired their quarters from.

As it happens, that gentleman is a nabob I happen to be personally acquainted with, originally from Pennsylvania, where he made his first of many fortunes in oil. And it would be a matter of pure simplicity, sending the doddering old fellow back up the hill to retrieve his… great-grandfather's watch fob or something of the kind, as far as I can see. So, now, are we all agreed? Shall I let Thea, Constance and Naomi know they should make their way here, and the sooner the better? '' Adam asked.

''Thea, Constance and Naomi?'' Jemmy echoed. '' Adam, for one thing, that's only three ummm… ladies.''

''Well sure, Jem, but with those three we'd also be getting the help and the pleasant company of Astrid, Isaura, Miri, Demetria, Mariamne, Marisol, Imogen, and Phaedra, Marielle, Talisa, Gwyneth, Sibyl, Maarit, Mercia, Evangeline, Reyna, Laura, Amalia, Zeva, Terese, Damara, Madelyn, Merari, Ysabel and Rianna, from Cheyenne just for starters.

And if we get the word out soon enough, I'm sure we can count on Lael, Alexandra, Sandrine, Talitha, Rhiannon, Yalena, Circe, Zara and Eirene, Eleanor, Bea, Mered, Sian, Timandra, Eleni, Lourdes, Raissa, Dani, Timothea, Alys, Richael, Maggie, Kate, Dee, Daphne, Isabella, Juliet, Zoe, and Reveka from down in it's not unlikely they'd all bring at least one friend along. so… with those and the local talent…'' Adam shrugged

'' We should have all the diversion our non-friends up on that hillside can stand and more. ''

''Adam,'' Jemmy said in a tight whisper. ''As … fascinating as all that sounds, we can't _hire _these… ladies. We're Federal agents, for the love of G-d! ''

''Oh, we wouldn't be hiring any one, Jemison, old man!'' Adam chuckled. '' We'd only be asking them to do their civic duty. And they would, I promise.''

'' Partner, I know you've had occasion in the past while you were acting, to make a lot of … interesting acquaintances. '' Jemmy went on, still bemused by his partner's jovial manner. That look on Adam's face usually ended up meaning considerable trouble for one of his partners' or massive headaches for one of their higher-ups.

''Calm down, partner.'' Adam said, patting the Raleigh born physician's shoulder. '' I do know more than a few fair ladies of the _demi-monde. _But

the ones I'm talking about relying on now are not just interesting old acquaintances, they're friends. And as a matter of fact, Thea and Athena already had one run-in with that so-called Colonel Howell, who went to their places of business in Chey, looking for our young friend, Lee Edward.

Following that encounter, during which they were intolerably cheated by said Howell and his cohort, it was Thea who wired me. She wanted to know how she could help us take these bastards down. Well, I wired back that I'd let her know when we agreed on a plan. So, again, Jem, you've still got lead agent on this case, so, are we agreed, or not?''

'I don't know, Adam. Maybe we are and maybe… Just answer me this and I'll think about it. And I'll think fast, 'cause Slim's right we can't just sit around and wait for reinforcements, at this point. So, you tell me, Adam, old man, just how exactly is this… are these… will this massive diversion of yours going to be written into the report we have to make to the President of the United States, when this case is, G-d willing, closed?''

''Oh, the usual way, Jemison, old man.'' Adam grinned and answered. '' Using stealth, secrecy, a well thought out, well-embedded unbreakable code in all the right places, cunning, guile and steely-eyed determination.


	20. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN Mansion at Widow's Retreat

outside Pine Bluffs Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

''I told you, Twin. I do not wish to have this conversation with you, ever.'' Eugenie Pascale insisted, when her brother appeared, still under armed guard, at the doorway to her suite. She'd been shut up in her rooms all that time, leaving her young 'charge' still in the care of her body servants. Her last 'conversation' with Morrissey had greatly disturbed Pascale and she wished no one, not even 'the lad' to know or see her in that frame of mind. Now, three days had passed since she cut off their last discussion, and the Widow considered she'd said all there was to say to her brother.

'' But I did not entirely believe you, Twin.'' Lee Henry Morrissey answered. '' I think you do, or you will want very much to hear the rest of what I asked for this visit to tell you. ''

''And why would you think any such thing, now, Lee Henry?'' the Widow asked.

''For the simple reason that you requested several days suspension of the tribunal's business with me, Eugenie Isabelle.'' Her brother told her, watching Pascale intently.

''Perhaps I was merely feeling enervated by all those wearisome proceedings. In fact I was becoming quite fatigued with it all..'' Pascale suggested, turning away from her twin's all too knowing gaze.

''But that would not explain your sending for me today, would it? I will surely come back at a later hour, if you require more rest, Eugenie.'' Morrissey offered, stepping around her to look her in the eye again.

''No, no. You're here now. So, we may as well attempt to be civil with one another, I suppose. That's what Poppa was always asking us to do, years and years ago, as you will remember.'' the Widow sighed.

'' I do indeed. May I come in, then, sister-mine?'' Lee Henry asked, as she remained standing in the doorway.

'' On one and only one condition, brother-mine.'' Pascale answered, studying her brother's still handsome, molded features. '' That you immediately give me your solemn word that you do not intend this visit merely to provoke me as you did so efficiently with our master prosecutor the other day.''

''You have my word. I intend only to let you know the truth about our 'master prosecutor', before you or the tribunal takes any further action you may indeed find worthy of remorse, hereafter.'' Morrissey answered, watching her just as closely. ''And I'd be very grateful indeed, my Dearest Twin, if you would hear me out on that subject, before you remonstrate with me. May I ask for that much leeway, genie?''

'' Lee Henry Richard! Did I or did I not, at our last encounter, forbid you to address me in that manner?'' the Widow exclaimed, frowning.

''You did, most certainly, Eugenie Isabelle Lisanor. But I fear I did not take your objections very seriously at all. You are and always will be My Dearest Twin, even when we are at odds with one another. It is, in one way a simple fact of birth, Eugenie. And it is, in other ways, the most profound truth I've ever known. Our frames, our forms, our minds, our hearts and our spirits are all twinned creatures, sister.

Only one thing I know of could have made us closer to one another, but I was not given the privilege of your gender.'' Lee Henry told her.

''Privilege indeed! Better to say the inexorable burden!'' Pascale replied, staring at him with a kind of amazed affection that hadn't been in her eyes for most of six years time. Morrissey considered. ''And until the other day, I'd point out you had not called me 'My Dearest Twin' in an awfully, awfully long while.

''Eugenie Isabelle Lisanor, until the other day, you've not let me see you, much less see that side of yourself in an awfully long while.'' her brother protested, half smiling.

''Well, I've been forced to take on a much, much harsher, far less womanly demeanor these past few years, my Dearest Twin. And frankly, Lee Henry, that painful necessity was in large part due to your increasing indifference to, and finally your forsaking not only of our Company and our …. endeavors, but myself, as well! That being the case, I'm not at all certain I should listen to whatever yarns you've come to spin, under the present circumstances. … '' Pascale told him, shaking her head. '' No, I don't know that I truly wish to hear you! You've been quite openly angry with me, of late, haven't you, Lee Henry? So, I don't know that I wish to hear any more of your anger… when we are … perhaps moving towards some small _rapprochement_. ''

''Then I will let my anger go, my Dearest Twin, as it seems to me you have done with much of yours.'' Lee Henry promised. '' 'genie, I'm not angry with you now. Nor have I been since I came here from Cheyenne, weeks ago. No, I am, as I have been greatly worried for your safety, and your well-being. Will you hear me out now, Twin, will you?''

''Only with the condition already stated, yes, I will. But I must get back to my other, my chief duties these days, Lee Henry. The boys can only do so much for … my young charge, after all.''

''And how is your young charge faring, Eugenie?'' Morrissey asked, wondering if the young Texan's care had wrought the change he saw and felt in his Twin's voice and manner.

'' He's shown some good recovery … at times. But you said you had something to tell me about Heydon Palmerston. So, perhaps we should keep to that topic… as long as you meet my condition, Twin. And if time allows, I will answer your questions, to some limited extent, at least, regarding my patient. '' Pascale answered, extremely reluctant to discuss the way the young Texan's presence affected her. Then she held out her hand to her brother. ''Done?''

''Done.'' Morrissey told her, bending over her hand and kissing it, like a courtier, she thought right out of 'Young Lochinvar', or 'L' Mort d' Arthur'. '' Eugenie, I must and I will speak quite seriously to you now, because the matter and the hour both grow late and rather desperate. And I don't doubt my statements and my reasons for making them will distress you, Twin.

But I cannot keep silent. I would be abrogating my sworn word to our dear father, my promise to always protect you insofar as I am able, insofar as

you would let me, sister… if I did not speak truth now, and damn the consequences!'' Lee Henry told her, his silvered grey eyes, the twins of hers, gleaming with his evident commitment to her.

''Well, then… go on.'' the Widow told him, more than a little surprised by his demeanor.

''Very well. Simply put, you must place no further trust whatever, my Dearest Twin in Heydon Moray, or anyone still wholly aligned with him. He is the worst enemy we've ever had, sister, and worse than that, one we've nursed at our own bosoms all this time! I worked for three weeks, Twin, not only reading but verifying much of the proof of what I tell you.

And that proof is locked within my mind, as I knew I could not allow it to be found by Moray or any of his vaunted 'band of brothers'. And before you ask, the source materials for what I now explain are not anywhere in this complex, now. I have in fact sent them back to some old friends back in N'Olins. And for the following good and proper legal reasons, 'genie:

Those papers, journals, notes and correspondence are more than enough to have Moray incarcerated for his life's term, if he isn't hung. And frankly, I would be just as glad to pull the lever on that particular gibbet!'' Morrissey growled.

''What proof?'' Pascale demanded. ''Whatever sources could you have, to base such charges on?''

'' 'genie, as I said, hardly a moment since, my concern is most of all for you, all the more, now that I know neither Solomon, nor Palmerston, nor my formerly angry Twin can attack me through my own, dearest Neddy.

But I've not used up my allotted half of our hour, Dearest Twin, so please, listen to me.

I'm telling you what I learned from one of our brother Neddy's former cohort, a Sergeant Aaron Caulder of Marion County, young betrothed was the woman Solomon encountered and dispatched on the immigrant train back in Nebraska, sister, and thus Solomon acquired Caulder's written legacy from her. I'm telling you what the late Sgt. Caulder left behind in a number of encrypted journals and letters, materials I have spent nearly every waking hour for three weeks on deciphering. And Caulder's records state all too clearly who the agent was of our lost brother's long, lingering last illness and depression, Heydon Moray, to be exact., Eugenie. '' Lee Henry went on.

The Widow sat stock-still, not looking at her brother for a long moment. Finally, when Morrissey thought she would either fly into a rage or a fit of weeping, his sister turned back to him and asked just one question.

'' How… Twin, how would … How could Sgt Caulder know whether any such thing was true or not?''

''From his wartime friendship and his later correspondence with our brother

Neddy.'' Morrissey answered. '' 'genie, Caulder was with our brother in Atlanta, along with young Harper. And at the receiving hospital there, all three of those boys encountered Moray. And our 'master prosecutor' was not only using an assumed name at the time, he was deeply, intricately involved in despicable black-market ventures. Moray did his best to make it seem his only business there was to comfort and look after our bravely wounded heroes.

And he spent hour upon hour, especially trying to hold private conversations with our Neddy. Well, our brother not only recognized Moray, from his many visits to flatter and influence Poppa, Napier and myself, but recognized, along with his young companions, the filthy business Moray was doing there! Not only did they realize his dastardly business, those three boys gallantly confronted him with what they knew he was doing. And thereby, as both Neddy and young Caulder soon realized, they earned Moray's undying enmity!''

Pascale turned away again, still listening but vividly pained by any talk of their late brother. Now she turned back, staring.

'' I do not … I do not wish to believe you.'' she murmured, shaking her head.

''I do not wish to believe what you are saying, Lee Henry, much less what you are intimating. Heydon Palmerston was, just as you said, a friend to both Poppa and my dearest Napier… Heydon Palmerston came down so often to visit, from his home in Charleston, that we used to smile and say he should build a winter home, there, in our dear old Saint Bernard's Parish. I do not wish to believe such awful accusations against him! He was always a gentleman to me! He always was entirely respectful to Poppa and on the best of terms with Napier, also!

Why, Heydon… has surely never needed whatever meager funds might have proceeded from dealings in contraband during the Conflict! He has his fine old home … near Charleston, and another … down in well, Havana, perhaps or Port au Prince or San Tomas… down in the West Indies. And aside from that, he was a prosecutor for both the county and the state, before the Conflict. Whyever would he delve into any such … unsavory business dealings? Whyever would he, Twin?'' the Widow asked.

''Caulder didn't know the answer to that question, either, Twin.'' Lee Henry answered. ''But I have learned it by checking through my own contacts and friends back east. And it's as damning as could be, Eugenie. All our supposed friend Moray's finery and extravagances since the Conflict came exclusively from his profiteering.

His homes were sold to a cousin, fifteen years ago or more to settle debts and pay taxes on it. His office was stripped from him, when a scandal ran through the courts in Charleston, regarding Moray's dealings with prisoners awaiting trial there. In short, he was nearly ruined when the Conflict hadn't yet begun. And as for Moray being a gentleman to you, 'genie, aren't you referring to the time before you married Napier?''

''Well, well, I suppose that's possible. This isn't very healthy for my self-confidence, you know, Lee Henry.'' Pascale couldn't help mourning.

''But didn't someone… yes, it was one of Solomon's younger fellows, Jaimey Stewart, didn't he tell me a week ago or more when bringing in some supper for me, that your young charge, is quite madly infatuated with you, 'genie?'' Morrissey smiled, thinking she sounded more like the belle she'd been, years ago, than a stately, handsome widow, just then.

''I daresay he won't be, once he's fully recovered his senses, and his memory, brother. But you've nearly used up your time for this visit. I shall have to rent you some of mine, I suppose, so you can finish with this distressing information.'' the Widow protested.

'' I promise you a fair return on your investment, sister. And I'll try to be succinct. Sgt Caulder wrote to our brother quite often after the Conflict, it seems. And in that way, young Caulder learned something else about Heydon Moray. Our 'master prosecutor' it seems, went right on visiting our brother Neddy, after their encounter in Atlanta.

In fact, Neddy wrote something that, when I read it, made me want to do outright murder, 'genie. It seems Moray was constantly asking our brother, more than once during every visit he paid him, about his former companions from the 8th Texas Cavalry's H Company! Moray claimed their bonds of friendship quite fascinated him, given the evident differences between our brother Neddy and those rough-hewn east Texas boys.'' Lee Henry told her.

''Heydon… Heydon Palmerston continually visited our brother Neddy?'' Pascale echoed.

'' Yes, my Dearest Twin.'' her brother answered.

'' Heydon… Moray, continually visited Neddy, our brother, Neddy, while he was languishing in 'the Quarter'?'' The Widow demanded.

''Yes, 'genie.'' Lee Henry told her, taking her hand and thinking he was watching his sister's heart breaking all over again for 'her Neddy'.

'' And Heydon Palmerston would ask, over and over, whilst visiting … our dearest Neddy, questions about his former cohort from east Texas?'' Pascale concluded, clutching his hand and almost sobbing.

'' So Neddy reported to his friend, Aaron Caulder.'' Morrissey nodded.

''And when … our dearest darling Neddy died… Oh, my Dearest Twin! It was Heydon Moray who came to tell us! It was only then he came, saying he'd just had word … saying he'd only then found out where our precious younger brother had been, all that awful, lonely time!'' The Widow stated, her tear-bright eyes widening, her voice breaking. ''Heydon Moray came to break the awful, awful news that Neddy… died! And I thought … I remember thinking, how very kind it was… how very kind _he_ was to make the journey…

Oh, my dear G-d! Lee Henry! I believed him! I believed he was our friend, yours and Poppa's, Napier's, mine and … and Neddy's! '' Eugenie Pascale exclaimed.

''No more than I, Eugenie. Now we know better. Now we know our genuine enemy at last. And knowing that much, may be all we need to defeat the dastard, I most sincerely hope!'' Lee Henry nodded.

''I will do all in my power to defeat, to vanquish, to destroy this … viper

I've allowed free rein all this while. But, Lee Henry, I have a sudden, terrible apprehension! I understand and I believe what you're relating. But brother-mine, haven't you left part of the story as yet untold?'' the Widow demanded.

'' I have, sister-mine, wondering if you would be strong enough, still, to bear it.'' Morrissey admitted, sighing, feeling his own eyes well with tears, now. '' Now I'm sure you are. It's this, Eugenie:

Young Caulder's letters to and from our brother also related some truly vicious tales, some old scandals and allegations, all of them black-hearted lies Moray told our brother as truths. And these supposed truths he held over Neddy, lest our brother reveal his infamous double-dealing! Moray wanted Neddy to believe all manner of appalling stories… some to do with Poppa, some to do with Napier, some with me, naturally enough. And worst of all, Twin, some of these calumnies had to do …''

''With the cruel, gossiping, old stories that went around the Parish around the time Neddy was born. '' Pascale quietly, sadly took up the narrative from him, catching her brother by surprise, for just a moment.

'' Heydon Palmerston wished Neddy to believe what no one in St. Bernard's Parish, or N'Olins ever believed for an instant… that Poppa's third and last child was conceived while his invalid wife entered her last illness, with his own, and only daughter, Eugenie Isabelle Lisanor Morrissey… that is, myself. And now, I can only hope and pray our Neddy never believed it, either! G-d alone knows how much l loved Poppa… and my dearest, darling Neddy… And even that wonderful gift, a little brother to help raise… our enemy sought to poison, may G-d damn him for it, as I do!''

''May He, indeed. And now, what of this young Harper? What has he told you about our brother, Neddy?'' Morrissey insisted to be told, suddenly worried again, but for his sister's charge, this time.

'' Those matters were discussed in absolute confidence and privacy, My Dearest Twin.'' Pascale insisted, with a slight frown. ''I am neither a physician, a jurist nor a cleric, and yet he confided in me, entirely… I truly don't believe I should relate them to you.''

''Then we won't talk of that, just now. Where is the young man now, Eugenie? Solomon said you have kept Harper steadily at your side, even sometimes had him brought to you, for weeks now. Why is he _not_ with you now? What's happened to the young Texan?'' Lee Henry asked her.

''My boys have been keeping watch for the him, brother, whenever I was called away, Lee Henry. In fact, before I had any inkling of Heydon Palmerston's evident villainy, I barred him from even seeing the lad. And now I see what I did not then begin to comprehend, which is why our 'master prosecutor seemed so utterly malicious towards young Harper! Plainly, Heydon Palmerston fears my young charge can still incriminate him! But I … I don't see why you should be still so concerned for the boy. I've no intention harming the lad myself, now, surely! I wish… well, Poppa used to say, if wishes could turn into horses… '' the Widow sighed.

'' The footpaths of the world would soon go begging.'' Morrissey finished. ''Very well, let's get our brother's friend packed up and send him packing, 'genie. We must, as soon as it's possible, send him directly home to his hearth and kin, or the nearest available equivalent thereof!

And if neither of those exists, then we must see him safely to the finest hospital in Denver, sister. We must ensure his full recovery from what our Company has done. That is the very least we owe both young Harper and his friend, our late brother don't you think, Eugenie?''

''We must, just as surely as I must make recompense for what I've done to the boy and … so many others, Dearest Twin. Ah, G-d! How have I come to this? How did I wander so far from home as to find myself lost and surely bound for Perdition, now?'' Pascale demanded.

'' Ah, G-d! How I'd wish to blame our enemy for all I've done since my Neddy… was lost… But that's what I believed I was doing… and rightly, all this while! So I cannot turn back to … I cannot step onto that path again, can I? I greatly fear I've doomed myself and my Dearest Twin as well with my misdirected rage for vengeance! Can you forgive me, Twin, or have I

lost you as well, as I so deserve to?'' Eugenie asked her brother.

''No, I'm still here beside you, Twin. And … yes, I can surely forgive you for acting out of the same horrific rage and vengeance I did, myself. You haven't lost me. 'genie. I'm not convinced you could, ever.'' Lee Henry answered.

He knew this woman, it seemed to him better than anyone still in the living world could claim to. And he knew all her expressions, especially those she constrained to the limits of her silvered grey eyes, the twins of his own. But she was searching his eyes now, too. And he decided to let her see as far within his spirit as she could. They had long ago spoken of whether those born twins had twin born souls. Sometimes in years past, he'd been convinced that must be so. Sometimes in more recent years, he'd been afraid it was true. And at other times, he'd prayed to be wrong in that fear, prayed to be a separate, saner heart and spirit


	21. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY An attic room in the hunting lodges at Widow's Retreat, outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

He was alone again, mebbee. He lay face down on a gleaming wooden floor, now, without moving. He couldn't move more than a fraction of an inch, now; not any more than he absolutely had to, to keep on breathing. And how he'd kept on breathing, for a time he could no longer measure was another mystery to him. He couldn't turn or lift more than his fingers. He couldn't raise his arms, his chest, his head, or raise his voice, now, either. And at first this seemed to be because someone must have dropped a thousand pound weight on his head, his neck his back and shoulders, sometime lately when he just wasn't looking.

It seemed to him he was lying face down on a gleaming wooden surface, in a much wider room, filled with beams of light and the dust-motes that floated about as slowly as his thoughts were moving now How he'd ended up here, was a mystery. He couldn't remember leaving or being taken from the grave-like place he recalled nearly suffocating in. He couldn't remember standing, walking or being carried to this other place, with walls ten times farther apart, and a hundred times more light and air in it. He could only remember the searing pain like a branding wire going through his head, and the blank, bleak numbness after. And he thought, he guessed or maybe he only dreamed, he was aching and shivering with fever and had been for time he couldn't mark or measure.

Fact was, awake or asleep, he wasn't sure of anything right now, except for who he was, an empty hearted, death-bearing drifter named Jess Harper, and recalling the fear and shame that never left him now. They weighed him down, like a rain-soaked stable blanket, so that he could hardly move. They wanted to devour him, but not even close to as badly as he wanted to let them swallow him up forever, most of the time, now.

He was and he should rightly be condemned for the awful wrongs he'd done. He should be and he was cast off, cast down and finally caught tangle footed as any newborn calf, in the Fate written down for him since the Foundation! Now, all the nightmares Jess hoped to leave behind forever rose up to nearly drown him. His friend and partner, his brother, and all they'd cherished, loved and worked for was gone!

But now he _was _finally asleep and dreaming, mebbee. No, he was waking up again, mebbee. No, he was dreaming again, mebbee. He must be dreaming, because suddenly there stood his Pard, watching and shaking his head at him, like always. And just as suddenly, all the nightmares poured back on him like a white-water rapids pouring under, over and right through a busted down dam!

_Slim! Ah, G-d! Ah, G-d! Pard, how could I forget, again? How could I think you'd ever … if you could, want t' josh around with me, again? How could I go an' wipe out … all you hoped for, that way? If you were here, right now, this minute, I couldn't face you, Pard! How could I wipe out your home, your family and all your dreams, after you let me claim them as my dreams, too? How could I?''_

_You couldn't, Jess._ Slim's calm, encouraging voice answered in Jess' imagination. _You're my partner, I know you. And I know you couldn't do anything like that, ever. It's just not possible, to you. And when you're not sick, and scared and cut off this way, you know that too!_

_Wisht I did! And ain't that just what the danged nightmare… ain't that exactly what it claimed, that you'd never believe I could be a completely crazed fire-bug?_ Jess demanded of his very welcome, even when only imaginary friend and brother.

_That's what the nightmare said, surely. But you need to listen to me, now, Pard. _Slim insisted,laying one long hand on each of Jess' shoulders._ What I said is not what I believe about you, but what I know about my friend, my brother, Jess Harper. And there's a big difference between those two things, now wouldn't you say? Also, these nightmares could just be left over from all the danged drugs they're foisting on you. These nightmares could be nothing more than your battered carcass complainin' about lack of sleep. _

_Well, I'm sure as all get out not willin' to try noddin' off any time soon, now! I don't very much care for th' results that's getting me lately! _Jess scowled, and grew somber, silent and not a little scared, again.

_What's got you now, Pard? C'mon, look at me and tell me. _Slim asked, his bright, wide blue gaze as kind and straightforward as always. _C'mon, Jess. If this is just you imagining talking to me, I'll never know what you're telling me now. And if it isn't… Then maybe we're both just dreamin' about trying to figure all this … latest trouble out. And if we are, then maybe this will help us get you on home again, just that much sooner. So tell me, Jess. Please, what is it?_

_Dang, Slim, you're 'most as stubborn as Daisy, y' know that? _Jess complained and then gave it up, looking down and away from his best friend's open face and worried expression. _You're right, Pard, much as I hate to admit it. You're right. There's a world of difference between knowin' and believin'. An' … figure I still … need t' know… Y' go on an' get riled with me for even askin…I still need t' know if th' nightmare was right… D' you believe I… 'M not crazed? Do y' believe … I … I couldn't … I didn't… set those fires, Slim? _

_Yes, that's what I believe, and what I know, Pard. But you don't seem to understand one real important thing here, Jess. _

_There never was a fire here at the ranch. Not one! So, either your own mixed up brains, or somebody really vicious, or both have got you believing in something that never happened at all. _Slim answered, turning Jess back around so they

were eye to eye.

_Not only that, but there's something else I know, now, about the fire that killed so much of your family. Jess, listen to me! I've been learning a lot of things you've never got around to tellin' me about my partner. And the most important thing I've learned that you never mentioned, is that you saved both Francie and young Danny when your home was burned. You got Francie out, Jess, and then went back in for Danny, after he'd fallen! And Pard, I don't know why you never told me, or Daisy or Mike about saving your brother and sister. I really can't figure that at all!" _

_I … I dunno. What? Slim, how would you … I don't even remember that much about … How'd you ever figure I … I done that? _Jess asked, the nightmare's confusion almost drowning him again.

_I didn't have to figure it, Jess. _Slim answered._ We've had letters from Francie and Danny both, the past few weeks. And both of them are worried sick, wondering what's happened to the brother who saved their lives. And both of them are telling me and Daisy and Mike that they wish they could return the favor and help us get you on home, somehow. _

_And I know they would, Pard. I know they'd do anything to save your life, same as I would, same as Daisy or Andy, Jonesy or Mike… If they had any way to do it, all the way from California and Texas! Now, you know as well as I do, Jess, Francie isn't going to lie about something like that. And if she wouldn't, why would your brother? _

_Oh and Francie had something else she wanted us to know, Pard. She said your Uncle Danny, your Aunt Beth's husband wrote down every word, every account, and every scrap of evidence about that fire in his journal. And I've seen that journal now, Jess. Your cousin Cooper has it. And I've read it cover to cover now. So I know a lot more now, about what happened out on the Panhandle._

_I know it had to be four, maybe five or six riders who murdered your parents and the rest of your siblings. It had to be, because they fired the house, burned the outbuildings and stables, trampled the gardens and hayricks into the dirt, pulled down the corrals and scattered the stock, all in the space of an hour at the most! And if I know that from Danny Smith's journal, Jess, then you know it too! The damage done that night, aside from the murders, was more than three grown men, much less one ten year old boy could ever create!_

_Ten and a quarter. _Jess protested, sighing._ It was almost October, when they raided th' place, so I was ten and a quarter. An'… back then I was kinda a light sleeper, truth be told. But, thanks, Pard, honestly, thanks a whole heck of a lot… I dunno exactly what kinda trouble I'm in or how I got here. But it's real good to … well, confab, even like this. Figure I was hopin to get a word in with you, mebbee even countin' on it. Figure I could mebbee get some sleep after all. _

_You go on and rest, however much you can, Pard. We're working our tails off right now to get you safe home again. And we will, Jess! And that you can, and you'd better believe! So, just you hold on, Pard. We're not leaving you with these… so and so's much longer, I promise! _The tall, blond rancher insisted

_Uh, yes, sir, Gen'rl Sherman, sir! An' please, would y' extend my deepest apologies to your superior officer, Gen'rl Cooper, an' tell her I feel awful bad, for havin' gone AWOL, this way, sir?_

_I wasn't plannin' this side trip a bit, will you tell her that, please? _Jess imagined joshing his partner, and almost believed for a moment he could see Slim relaxing, the way the rancher often did, while they exchanged their usual brotherly banter.

_Oh, don't worry, you're already on her sick list for at least the next five or six months, at this point! You might, just might be allowed out of bed, in time for Christmas! _Slim jibed back, at least in his partner's thoughts, then became somber, again.

_This is your home, now, Pard, whether you actually believe that or not. And you're needed, and you're loved here, whether or not you believe that, either. So, no giving up, no giving in, either. Seems as if I've heard Texans don't know what either of those things mean. Seems as though my brother Jess never once thought surrendering was even possible for anybody named Harper. You're counting on us? Well, no more than we're counting on you, Jess. So, hang in there, okay? Jess, answer me! You're going to hang in there for all of us, right? Jess?_

_'M gonna try my darndest, Pard. _Jess agreed, feeling exhausted._ An' m' real glad you're not givin' up on' ol Jess here, yet. M just kinda worn down, right now. Just kinda wearied out, about now. _

_Go on, hit the rack, then, Cowhand. _Slim suggested, as Jess had heard him do a thousand times with Mike or Andy, with a warm, 'big brother grin' spreading all over his face._ We'll be there just anytime now, Jess, you've got my word!_

_That's good t' know, real good, Pard. _Jess grinned wearily back, and almost relaxed into genuine sleep, finally. Almost.

_How very timely!_ The nightmare's icy voice called out, now, catching the exhausted man on the near edge of falling asleep. _And how very comforting, truly! And how exceedingly close all that blather came to being EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR MOST JUST NOW! _

_N-N-No! _The nightmare-ridden man cried out, as the freezing laughter came back like a blizzard pouring down out of the Rockies to wrap him head to toe in self hatred and loathing.

_Y-Y-Yes! _The laughter mocked him, billowing like a thunder._ You were asleep. You knew it. You told yourself that, and yet, here you are, seeking to believe in yet another inviting delusion! You were asleep and dreaming of your devoted friend's compassion and trust and affection! You were imagining him and you knew it! You were looking at ghosts, seeing spectres and listening to more laudanum induced lies! Those you most wish were alive, you recreate living and thriving in your lunatic thoughts. Those you fear most to have harmed you envision unscathed! _

_Those you know full well you destroyed by your madness, your arrogance and your most adamant folly, you draw from memories you claim not to have any longer, while waking! Well, you're fully awake now, it seems. Open your madman's eyes and see what is real and what is illusory here! _

Shuddering, all but helpless to do anything else, he complied, opening his eyes to the size of two chinks in a rough wooden door. The wide, warm, sunlit room he'd 'seen' just now had vanished, taking all the light and ease he'd begun to feel with it. The sense of being somehow welcomed, worried and waited for was gone now, too. He'd only invented them, anyway. He had no home, no shelter, and no haven. He had no right to any such thing!

Well that, at least, and at long last, you have right! The nightmare's chill voice insisted. You are remembering rightly now, aren't you, my fine young lunatic? You are recalling the core truth of your life, despite all efforts to deny, to digress, and to dissemble. You are insane. But that cannot change the facts. And the key fact is, you are a murderer! You murdered two families, two I say!

You wiped out two bands of loving, welcoming innocent souls, in two lunacy-driven murder sprees. They took you in and you took them in, entirely! Then you devastatednot one but two loving families. You destroyed their homes, their lives and their future. You shattered their worlds and buried the fragments in fire and madness on two, I say two separate occassions of unadulterated, brutal dementia!

Jess felt his eyes flying wide open, staring, his throat closing, his fists clenching, his arms and legs struggling to send him bolt upright. But he couldn't see the nightmare-figure clearly. He couldn't raise his voice or his hands against these terrible charges. He couldn't make his limbsor his whole frame obey him at all. The most he could do now was shake his head in terrified denial.

_Ah, yes, of course, you would like to refute the truth of the matter. You would still like to erase your past._ The nightmare figure nodded. _And the pity is, the genuine pity, is you might have done so. But it seems your ancestral madness is no longer dormant within you, Harper . Because as it turns out, when nearly twenty years passed after that first tragic arson, you found a new home and new family,_

_to boot. _

_Once more you wove your sad stories. And they let you in. And you destroyed them, as well. They trusted you, they cared for you, my fine young lunatic. And once more you turned on them, with all the violence in your deranged spirit. They made you a part of their lives, and were repaid with death and destruction they could never possibly have twenty years had passed since that first, pitiable conflagration, you unleashed your personal demons and you struck again! Once more, in the dead of night, you left your horrific signature there with a killing fire! _

_No, as we already told you. They never could have imagined the profundity of your madness, could they? No, as I said, they were too innocent for that. And if you are finally come to the Bar of Everlasting Justice, it is only because someone realized your deranged, demented and terribly dangerous state, at long last. _

Driven awake again, his thoughts swam like ponies panicking in a mudslide, never getting them, or him, anywhere. He had no hope of escaping now, nowhere to turn. He hadn't any dreams left and no right to them. He'd wrecked every dream, every hope, and every chance he'd ever had. That much he should have known already, the nightmare-figure somehow silently told him. He had no friends, no kin, and no help he could expect here. He'd torn their lives and hopes apart, he'd slain and buried all their dreams, right alongside his own.

_No! No! I couldn't have! No, I don't remember!_ Jess tried to tell the nightmare. _How could I have done such awful harm and have no recollection?_

_Liar! Deceiver! Hypocrite!_ the nightmare answered, laughing coldly. _You only remember what you wish to, or so it seems. Or is that just another lie, one you've convinced yourself is fact? Recently you claimed to remember a great many things. But now, you're back to this defense by virtue of amnesia? It won't serve you, it won't help your case now. And it may be nothing will help. Come, come, do you think you may escape Perdition with a lie?_

_I dunno if I'll escape Perdition by any means. That's not up to me, or up to you, Nightmare! _Jess insisted._ If I'm written down for Glory, I'll get there. If not… If not, well, I guess I'm bound for hell fire… at least then th' accounts will be settled._

_Hell fire? How very odd that you should use just that term. You may in fact have lost some elements of recollection, it would seem. That does not signify here. We have, in fact, taken these things into due consideration on many, many previous occassions. And I am not required, neither am I here at all in order to clear your confusions, my fine, young lunatic! _

_I am not here at your service, but that of The Eternal. And if you now stand at the Bar of Perpetual Judgment, that is not my doing, either, but your own! _

_And if you're to be cast down, cast out forever; all the while declaring you do not know, you cannot recall your own unspeakable transgressions, well, that is on your head, madman, and yours alone. But, as it happens, The Eternal is not without It's own Ineffable Mercies. So I will leave you with what may be enough to bring you some semblance of understanding. Please do pay heed, you may need to be deposed, or cross-examined on this, later. _

_You have recalled that you are Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith Harper, named for your father's distant cousin and benefactor of that name. You are the eldest maternal grandson of Nathaniel and Meredydd Cooper, and on your late father's side, of Alexandre and Mirielle Harper. And as you noted, you learned, at an early age, at your grandfather Cooper's own church in Texas, that either Salvation or Damnation are written down for every living soul, from the Foundation of the World. Well, that is where the answer to your most urgent question lies, young Harper. _

_You are far more the heir of Mirielle Anastaise Meraud Clement Harper than you are of Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper. You are a dangerously, indeed uncontrollably violently mad pyromaniac; and a cunning one, I'd add. You followed your grandmother Harper's dire, disastrous, maddened arsonists example in life, almost to the letter. __Like her, you set ruinous, murderous fires. And like her, you somehow hid your lunacy for decades. And like her, you told lie after lie after lie to conceal what you'd done. And as those who loved her so well long believed the fables she spun for them, those who loved you equally as well, for the most part believed your lies as well. _

_As a boy, you played on and you won all the sympathy and concern one could wish, as a poor, bereft, tragically orphaned child. As a youth, you maintained your fabric of lies and misdirection that kept a great many kind souls believing your tales. As a man, you went so far as to seek final condemnation for the persons you cast as the villains in your tragic stories._

_And now, even now, there are those who want to believe you did not destroy the home you had in northwest Texas, years ago. Even now there are those who want to believe there could be no place for such malice, such wickedness or such madness in a boy they cherished so much. So it seems mostly normal human disbelief and compassion has kept you from either a madhouse or a gallows all these years. Even now there are those who, knowing the few facts of the terrible matter, will not admit you murdered your own family._

Wholly awake now, chilled through, sick and shivering, Jess tried again to push himself upright and failing that, fell back on his left side. He could hardly think. He could hardly understand what he heard. The nightmare's charges pounded him like lead-gloved fists, like knives made of fire. A thousand pound weight seemed to drop onto his shoulders, and all he could manage was a despairing moan.

''Ah, G-d! Ah, G-d! Ah, no, no, G-d, no!''

_I could never… I could never do any… such thing! I couldn't harm them… I couldn't hurt them… I could never … _

_Ah, G-d! I could never … kill the people I love! I … couldn't… _Jess tried to fight the sheer weight of words, of nightmare visions, and his own life long remorse for surviving when so many greatly loved kinfolk and friends were long gone. He tried and the terrible weight wouldn't budge from his shoulders, much less from his heart.

_Ah, G-d, forgive me! Have I been purely outa my mind all this time? Have I swept these awful… memories … under some kinda rug?… Ah, G-d! I murdered my family? Momma, Daddy… Alec an' Lissy… the Twinners…_

_No, all of them… all of them died, he said! Francie died, then … Danny, too? But that's not… that can't be so! I … couldn't've dreamed them… I couldn't have made all that up! How could I imagine the damn Bannisters raidin' and burnin' us out? I must be about as crazed as they come! How else could I forget I caused the worst night of my life?_

_How can a man be sane who, still more n' half the time, doesn't know who he is, or how he came to be a prisoner, a patient, or an inmate of whatever place I'm bein' held now? _Jess wondered dismally_. How can a man just forget doing the worst things any man could ever do? And what kind of absolute coward would run away from what I've done… And run inside his own damn all befuddled brains?_

_No, it's not… it can't be true! I … No, no, it's … true! It's true! Sure it is! Didn't I always know? Yeah, I knew it would happen! I knew I'd do… just what I was most afraid I'd always do! I got a second chance at home and family and … just smashed it, too! Daisy, you didn't believe I could be this crazed! Ah, G-d! I'm … I wish you'd been right! … I wish I'd … run, each and every time I got the sense I oughta, and kept runnin' purely forever! …_

Well and truly locked inside his own head, Jess fought back his fear, confusion and increasing frustration, using all the faculties left him to make his living presence known here. He thrashed at the hands and arms that lifted, moved and cleaned him. With his sore right shoulder protesting all the while, Jess twisted and pulled away from the needles, cups and bowls they forced on him, over and over again.

Hands and arms fed the Texan, carried him, touched him, turned him, and even bathed him, and he couldn't tell if they were harsh or gentle with him. Sounds ran like babbling streams along side and above him, and he couldn't make anything more than murmuring noise of what he heard. Nor could he manage to so much as echo those sounds. Slurring, garbled, rasping nonsense was all his throat and his voice box could manage.

Without wholly understanding why that was, he only grunted at the sounds someone was constantly making around and above him. He squinted at each blurry form that came close enough, and furiously blinked if he thought they might look at him.

With his 'good leg and foot', with the left still stiff and nearly useless, Jess wearily, constantly kicked out, pushed and shoved his captors away, That made up most of the laundry list of things he did now. What he couldn't do was keep them from jabbing, pouring and dosing him with Jess didn't know what, any longer. It happened so often now he couldn't tell when they'd started. It left him so scared and sickened he couldn't tell when they were done. He shook half the time as if with a high fever, and lay as if wholly paralyzed the rest.

He suffered beatings every time he fought his tormentors. He lay without food or water for time without any measure every time he pushed away the drugs. He grew weaker and less able to fight them all the time, and knew without question this was just what they wanted. And they only came back, after each time he fought, with more blows, more anger and more of their drugs. Each time he woke, Jess was sick, shaking, anxious, and certain they'd dosed him once again.

What more he couldn't do, was rest, much less sleep. Over and over again, Jess started falling asleep, that was so. But over and over again, each time, he woke in terror he could barely understand. Each time, just on the edge of sleep, suddenly he saw a threatening, shadowy figure standing at his feet, or at his side, or looming over him. Each time, just when the young Texan might have dismissed what he saw as figment or a nightmare, a feeling of pure dread took hold, he was helpless and didn't know why.

_Long familiar, sick self loathing, was drawing him back into its shadows. It covered him now, like a blanket lined with lead. It weighted down his back, his head, his neck and shoulders, his whole frame, really, so that he could barely move a muscle. It held him paralyzed, pressed against the ground, face down, more helpless, more downhearted and more afraid than he could ever remember being. He couldn't raise his head, or his voice now. He couldn't make his fingers take or keep hold of anything. He couldn't see beyond the tip of his own nose, in the dimness around him. _

_He couldn't hear much beyond a kind of gasping, struggling old man's sort of wheezing. And only after yet more struggling did he realize it was his own strained efforts to breathe he heard. Something he couldn't name or remember had worked to weaken every inch of his frame, his arms, his legs, and now it seemed, his lungs as well. Someone he couldn't recall or name had beaten him black and blue nearly from head to toe. Every element of his body, mind and spirit felt battered, trampled and terribly abused_

_At first, waking again, he told himself this had to be another of his own worst nightmares, increased by a magnitude in gloom and guilt and grief that threatened to drown him. At first, he almost believed the bleakness of his condition, his surroundings and his prospects was too immense to be reality at all._

_And at first he tried with all his remaining, waning strength to grasp some thread, some scrap, some straw of hope that the terror building in his mind and heart and spirit would vanish when he awoke. Then it hit him. He wasn't sure any longer when or whether he woke, slept or dreamed. He couldn't tell anymore where he was or how he'd come there. He had no idea how long he'd lain helpless and nearly hopeless. _

_He didn't know the difference now between what he recalled and what he dreaded. Worst of all, he couldn't make his mind, his spirit or his heart tell him what was real now, and what wasn't. And that only let the dread threatening to squeeze the air and the life from him now grow that much more leaden, press that much harder. _

_Now he knew, in fact all he knew now was this one cold, heart-breaking truth: He'd been found out, cast out. Now he was simply, finally enduring his rightful indictment, trial, sentencing and long since written Doom. All his many awful failings, all his heinous crimes, all his terrible wrong-doing had been discovered. _

_All his offenses, lies and frauds from a lifetime of being half-buried within him had been revealed at long last. All those he'd devastated, all those he'd destroyed and then, insanely, somehow forgotten were finally to be awarded some measure of justice, some fragment of recompense for what he'd stolen from them and their cherished, bereft kin and friends. _

_The Fate assigned him from before the world itself came to be was now pronounced upon him in their hearing. Inescapably, the Judgment of the Eternal had him in custody, to face and to suffer as he'd caused so many innocent lives and hearts to suffer. This was surely the answer to all his pain-wracked questions. This was without any doubt the price he should have paid so very long ago. This was only the just desert of a man without conscience enough to lay down and die in the place of any or all of his victims. He was, as was only right and just, already condemned out of his own words and actions, out of the inexorable, illimitable Hand of G-d_.

_What seemed real to him now, changed drastically, frighteningly each time he opened his eyes again. What he saw was constantly shifting, constantly slipping from his grasp each time he tried to hold it. What he heard or touched, tasted or scented grew more and more weird and unpredictable. And that was barely half of what now fed his growing terror. The rest were the elements of pure nightmare randomly visiting him here:_

_Shrilling, sobbing, screaming, cursing, raucous voices came just within his range of hearing, but never close enough to be understood. Flashing, discolored, glowing, starkly fiery, frenzied images flowed around him, but always too far away for recognition. Finally every kind of sensation struck him as he lay defenseless, from feather-touches by unseen finger tips to vicious blows from invisible fists from all directions, to sharper, stranger, still more disturbing, violent manipulations he couldn't recognize, much less describe. _

_But what he knew or understood or wanted now mattered nothing to his despicable tormentors. What he dreamt or believed or feared held no meaning for them, either. And with each new assault, the defenseless man's body, mind and spirit began to do more than wander in one nightmare after another, after another. _

_Together and separately, they began to wonder if he or his tormentors possessed a single scrap of sanity between them, or if there was anything resembling sanity left in a world he no longer lived in. Separately and together the elements of the tortured being began to wonder if he was real to his abusers, or if they were real, or if there was anything left that could be called reality, anywhere at all._

_In one sense, they were far more real than he could wholly endure, any longer. Their hatred and loathing for him was as painful as any beating he could bring to memory now. Their contempt for everything he tried to keep and lost hold of now was more frightening than any nightmare he'd ever known. And their power over him, based on lies, half truths, dreams and terribly distorted memories was overshadowing every thing he'd once known about himself. _

_Did he remember caring and being cared for? The nightmare jeered. Those were lies he told himself to get from one empty-hearted night to another. Did he believe he'd once welcomed and been welcomed anywhere? Those were just more frauds he'd used against the cold of the Big Open. Was he still clinging to the notion he'd once loved and been loved, much less accepted anywhere at all? That was only another swindle he'd managed to pull… mostly on himself and his own wrecked memory. _

_He'd been alone so long, the nightmare insisted, he'd begun to go mad, and in that madness invented homes and friends and family he never had and never would! Did he find himself reacting in ways that seemed strange, unnerving, uncanny and even self-destructive to this onslaught of bitterness, self hatred and isolation? That was only what he should always have expected. What was a hapless, friendless saddle-bum supposed to do, if not seek whatever peculiar ways and means he could find, of shutting out his loneliness and longing for what he could never know? _

_Did he begin to comprehend what the nightmare had to offer as something he'd always truly wanted? That was only a fragmentary gift of reason, of common sense and acquiescence to the way his world had always and would always be now. He should have given up and given in to this long ago. He should have known, he had known most of his life how it would all play out, hadn't he, really? _

_He should have, and now he finally could let go of all the fancies and foolery of the baby-dreams he might have heard at his momma's knee. The world he lived in, for however longer that might be, was nothing remotely akin to her fairy tales, or his Daddy's dreams, either. None of that was meant for him and he'd always known that was true, right? _

_Hadn't he tried for years to keep from buying back into that old nonsense? Hadn't he pushed and fought and cut himself free of the world that believed in such claptrap? Hadn't he seen at less than eleven years of age, and again at fifteen and again over and over and over as he grew how the real world took and shattered, took and crushed, took and killed dead and buried all that fantasy of happiness fools wanted to believe in? _

_He was merely the defendant at the bar of the Eternal, waiting only to hear the sentence sealed for him since the Foundation. Nothing could be done about that now. And nothing should be. The Almighty's ineffable, enigmatic Justice was to be served upon him here. Nothing mortal could or should withstand it._

_No one mortal should or could so much as try to understand it. __ He was without any question guilty as charged here. He couldn't quite seem to recall why he hadn't simply been instructed to make a guilty plea here, thus speeding the Eternal along a bit, just to be helpful. He couldn't quite seem to recall much, now, except his own guilt and the remorse he surely felt to his core. __He'd shift his weight on the defendant's rough, unpolished bench, and grasp the railing and turn, in just a minute, definitely. He would. It was important. It was. Surely. _

_Some thing here was important. Somehow he'd forgotten and sat down here with his back to the door, and that was – bad. Yes, that was always – wrong. He'd done something else horribly wrong – again. He too often did. Yes. Much, much too often. It wasn't something anyone could just – put up with. _

_Nor should they. No. No. They'd suffered a fool gladly – when that was – wrong. Yes. That had to stop. They would come and stop it – yes. That would only be – what was supposed to happen.__ Shouldn't he be on his feet now? He thought so. Yes. Wasn't he supposed to stand up and – say or do or – listen to – something? Yes, he was surely supposed to stand – supposed to stand and – hear – something – They would come and tell him – what now was supposed to happen. And he should – be standing when they told him. _

_Yes. He should. That might be a problem –now, though. it seemed highly unlikely to the exhausted man that he could even take his feet again, unless someone pulled him to them. And that would be – wrong. He was supposed to stand – He was supposed to stand, even though now his legs seemed to be made of sand and putty._ _He had to try. He had to give at least the appearance of trying yes, that was – right. He had to – try to – to He had to face his long since written doom, his verdict, and his sentencing, now_

_Would he be ordered to alocute his insupportable crimes? Would he be allowed to speak his vast contrition? What was now expected of him? Surely those spirits, however long departed had every right to hear him admit his monstrous offenses of letting them die, his grievous sin - of surviving them all. Surely those so wrongly bereaved, gathered here, deserved to take whatever reckoning they could from his sentence._

_What should he be doing now? The amnesiac at the Bar of Justice wondered. At the very least, shouldn't he be standing, soon, if not this instant, to receive his sentence, his verdict? At the very least he should be trying to contain his shivering, the random spasms in his arms and legs now. No, no, he shouldn't be sitting now. He should be standing. _

_Now, someone … maybe more than one someone here was weeping. That was only right. That was just and proper. And surely someone, a lot of someones here were also bitterly angry. And so they should be. Yes, yes. They should also be allowed to speak, making certain … making sure there could be no doubt at all that this defendant deserved punishment to the fullest extent of the Eternal. They probably should speak before… or should he somehow, try to speak before them? _

_He swallowed, painfully, his throat raw, for no reason he could quite remember. Had he been sobbing, shouting, or screaming and just forgotten? He tried to turn his head and ask a question. No, no, that was wrong. He had no right to speak here, without being ordered to list his crimes, to state his guilt, to acknowledge his Everlasting disgrace._

_His voice didn't seem up to the challenge, just now, anyway. The most he could do was rasp and squeak like a broken, rusty gate-hinge. Perhaps he'd be permitted to scrawl out a statement that could be read to the Eternal, by someone whose voice box was in working order. _

_That could be tricky too, since his right hand felt pretty much like a lump of putty, just now. He'd tried and could hardly get his fingers to act like they were attached to his palm, much less to his fogged in brain. Perhaps he could set down on paper what he would have told them all , if he could just stop his hands shaking as if he'd come down with a fever. _

_This was important. It was, surely. They'd want to see, if they couldn't hear how deeply he felt his shame, how well he knew his fault in all this. Or had he already made a confession? He had… of course, he had. But would the Eternal accept such a paltry attempt as that? Maybe he could make some other gesture, now, to show… _

_Perhaps those he'd wronged so awfully could take their privilege, their right to confront him. They surely were entitled to that and much more. Were they truly here? Were those who should have lived long and full here, now, to tell him precisely how they'd been cheated? Would he be able, would he be allowed to at the very least squeak out a heartfelt ''m' sorry''? _

_The nightmare was relentless now and only growing ten times stronger every time he tried to turn it away. The horror of his long ago losses was turning into the truth of his whole, entire life, now. The emptiness of a grief stricken boy, a lonely youth and a bitter man on the drift was surrounding and suffocating everything else in him now. He'd lost them all, he tried to say, and mourning everyone he loved in one bitter instant._

_No! the nightmare insisted. No, he'd destroyed them all and should be glad to accept his bleak, justly abbreviated future. Shouldn't he just give in at last to the oldest wound in his battered heart, and let it take him? Shouldn't he be glad to die, now? At last, together or separately, the nightmare was winning. The nightmare was defeating every remaining fragment and scrap of the man, the youth and the boy it hated so profoundly, because it so profoundly envied his open, caring, honest, deeply loving heart, and spirit. That heart was all but buried, as deeply now as a young boy had once been buried in an old irrigation tunnel. _

_That spirit was all but collapsed, as devastatingly as a battered ranch house on the Texas Panhandle once collapsed in flames and horror. That man, who had been the boy watching his home dying, the youth watching his friends and foes destroyed by War, now lay watching his life, his mind and his understanding vanishing. He had no more strength to fight his enemies alone, the same enemies he'd always had, loneliness, grief and longing. _

_As far as his enemies were concerned, they were watching the man they hated and feared ten times more than he feared them, dying. As far as they could tell a creature of their own violent making was coming to birth in the ruins they'd sought after with so much bitterness, rage and terror. The creature that was emerging from these horrors knew only the sanity, the reality and indeed the beliefs his captors intended for him. He was wholly their creation now and they turned at last to giving their creature his sole remaining purpose, his own self-destruction. _

'_The prisoner at the bar has something to say to the plaintiffs, to the prosecutor, to the Eternal Court of Judgment, now? The prisoner asks to make a statement?'' a chilling, angry voice, one the amnesiac knew better than he wished, asked from somewhere beside him. _

_"Wait, colect your thoughts. Very well, now, make your statement."_

'' _M' statement.. is" he rasped, using all his strength, to push past the weariness, the rawness, and the ache of tears in his throat. Had he been weeping too? '' I … only … tell… 'em… I … 'm sorry.'' _

_Abruptly the nightmare wheeled more deeply into the uncanny. The voice, the only one speaking to him here, began raucously, mockingly, almost hysterically laughing. The prisoner/defendant cringed at the bitter sound, wishing he could somehow unsay the words that brought it on. That laughter, the defendant/prisoner felt like icy knives cutting him open to let his blood soak the earth as he'd heard some folks believed was the only way a killer should be executed. And that laughter, that mockery, was only part of the punishment he so well deserved! That laughter, the prisoner/pre-condemned man knew from a time and place so deeply lost to him he couldn't touch, much less name them now. _

_He had no right to know, to see, to hear, or to recall the lives and the names, the times or the places he'd devastated. He had no place, no ties, and no name here. And in what was the only justice left him, he'd soon give up his life for what little recompense that might bring his victims and their mourners now. Dying was all there was left for him to do. Paying with his own ruined span of years seemed barely enough now to him, when put in the balance against the dreams he'd stolen, the lives he'd shattered and all the places he'd destroyed. _

_Now the icy, cutting laughter stopped and the bitter voice returned to accost and accuse him. That was the prosecutor's right, surely. The charges must be announced in meticulous detail now, that was only right. That was only just. The prisoner tried once more to stand, as he knew he was expected to do now. _

_With all his arm's remaining strength he struggled, pushed and leaned his weight against the bench he sat on. With all the effort he could bring, he shifted first one leg and then the other to a stance that might hold him upright. With all the will in the world he tried to do what was needed and expected of him now. It was no good, it was no use, and he could no more keep his balance than he could keep his feet. Heavily, and helplessly he fell against the enclosure surrounding him. _

_'' If the prisoner at the bar of Eternal Justice had any true regard whatever for those he so grievously, so terribly, and so profoundly wronged, the Prosecution would have expected some gesture of expiation from him at a much earlier juncture. The Prosecution would have thought that any living creature with any semblance of a human conscience would wish to make his comprehension of his terrible guilt abundantly clear to all concerned. _

_The Prosecution would never, and indeed has never wavered from its support of a prisoner's right to declare, to alocute his crimes in open court before the Eternal and those he devastated with his shameful deeds and yet more shameful deceptions. That is the least a prisoner, standing condemned at the bar of Eternal Retribution should be not only capable of but willing. Indeed, it has long been the stance of this Office to accept genuine acts of Recompense and Reparation, not to say Repentance on the part of such a prisoner as this. _

_Moreover, this Office has on numerous occassions made its policy as regards what a prisoner standing already condemned here should willing, if not eager to do, as a means of showing genuine remorse and true compassion for his more than numerous victims. Regrettably, the prisoner presently standing condemned before the Eternal has vouchsafed no such obliging gestures, has communicated no such accommodating remorse, nor has he made so much as one single, solitary attempt to remove himself from the Eternal's demanding docket!_

_Rather, he has made every attempt to maintain his appalling defense strategies of claiming for himself abject empty minded madness, clinically impossible global amnesia, or what is worse, some totally bizarre idea of his own innocence as regards these charges! And by doing so, the Prosecution cannot help but note, the prisoner here condemned has put the Eternal to no little trouble, to no small difficulty, and to no end of nuisance complaints from the tiny remnant of those who survived his dangerous, capricious, and always murderous bent for ruin and annihilation! _

_One would have thought anyone brought to a full understanding of his full culpability in such a catalogue of foul deeds would have made begged to make his quietus before the Eternal's verdict had even been required. _

_One would have surely thought that any conscience-bearing human soul would have taken the first opportunity that presented to erase the awful ignominy of his brutally mad existence! And yet here stands the prisoner, condemned out of his own mouth by what he confided in disbelieving innocents years ago!_

_Well, sir, do you have anything you wish to add to your pathetic notion of a last statement before the Eternal gives out your sentence? Do you perhaps, have some final request you wish to make, to ease the matter now before the Eternal? Wait. Summon your thoughts as best you can. Very well, speak your piece before the Eternal Bar of Justice. '' The Prosecutor, who seemed bizarrely familiar to the condemned man's blurry vision demanded. _

_''I … should… have… I should… have died… when they … died.'' the prisoner whispered, believing what he said completely. '' I … should've … died … not … them… never them… '' _

_''And what precisely do you mean to do to redress that long-lived imbalance?'' the Prosecutor asked, hiding the glee in his icy-grey gaze by turning his face from the prisoner. "Stop. Wait until directed to answer. Very well, now. Tell the Court of the Eternal what you intend." _

_'' I… I … I'll die… '' the prisoner/creature Moray had built on the ruins of the man he feared and hated answered, staring, entranced at the long, shining steel barber's razor that suddenly seemed to be there on the bench beside him.. '' I'll… … die… please….'' _the creature/prisoner rasped and losing all his remaining strength, collapsed, unconscious.

"No. No, Harper, you won't die. Well, not quite yet." Moray said, and swallowed a cry of triumph and turned back to glare at the prisoner. With

the brutally efficient use of counter-reacting drugs he'd brought his youthful, strong willed enemy to this depth of desolation in something over a fortnight. With the assistance and the silence of his servants and distractions provided by his still loyal followers among the Company, he'd kept his violent manipulations secret from the Widow.

In any case Eugenie Pascale mattered next to nothing to the Charlestonian, now. He had papers drawn and ready for her real or, if need be, her forged signature, giving him not only her power of attorney but the proprietorship of her estate. The Widow Pascale could easily join her lost loves at any time following the filing of those papers. Her twin brother was already under 'indictment' by the tribunal Moray had taken control of. Lee Henry Morrissey would also cease to be anything but a bothersome memory sometime in the not too distant future.

Moray had plans well under way at this very moment to rid himself of Solomon Howell, Roberto Geronne, Ezekiel Adamson, and any other Company men who retained an unhealthy loyalty to 'the Colonel'. The South Carolinian hadn't worked since the Conflict for what he wanted, wealth, influence and power, only to let ruffians and brigands such as those bar his way to Ultimate Victory now.

Any others in the Company who thought to take what Moray had indubitably earned for himself alone would be neatly disposed of, by means of sealed records going directly to any and all regional and Federal authorities. That those records bore not one trace or sign of Heydon Moray's complicity in the Company's many terrible deeds was only what any sensible jurist doctor would have made sure of, the jurist doctor in question decided. None of them were in the same class or on the same level of matchless wits and acumen as he. None of them had the least idea of what it meant, or what it took to be a true Southron aristocrat in these terribly altered times.

Only one person with any connection whatever to this band of conveniently expendable killers had ever come close to attaining Moray's approbation and acceptance. That young gentleman lay in his family crypt the past six years outside St Bernard's churchyard. And that young gentleman had brusquely refused all of Moray's offers of support, of patronage, or of genteel friendship.

Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, the Second had rebuffed, not to say repudiated every offer Heydon Palmerston Catesby Moray ever made him. Shining like a young Lochinvar when the Conflict started, wealthy young Neddy Morrissey declined every gift or promise Moray would have made him. And then he heaped insult on injury, by joining a band of Texas rowdies masquerading as Confederate cavalrymen. Wounded and later maimed in a Yankee held hospital in Yankee-held Atlanta, Neddy Morrissey still rejected every word or act of friendship, no matter what truths or what lies were offered with them.

Never once by word, or look or deed had the still handsome, still deceptively frail seeming youth accepted Moray's promises, threats or attempts at extortion, all meant to move the lad where he would not be moved. But Moray couldn't help but blame the two rowdies from east Texas who backed up Neddy's angry accusations against the Charleston native. Aaron Caulder and Jess Harper made themselves altogether too memorable to Moray and he never forgot the damage they did him and his reputation.

Neddy knew the former prosecutor and made just as much trouble, or tried to. All of them would have to be dealt with… as time went on. And finally, dying in a loathsome bordello or 'crib' in the French Quarter, 'Neddy' Morrissey still declined Moray's every attempt to 'help' him. Now, Neddy was long since dead and moldering amongst his ancestor's remains. And moving him from a pauper's to a suicide's to a sanctified resting place had taken no small influence at the time. Moray, once more made cognizant of the wealth and power the Morrisseys and Pascales retained even after the Conflict was lost, remade his plans and notions and offers. And all these he took to the Widow.

_Now we have reached the endgame. _Morrissey considered,sneering as Jaimey and Phillips moved Harper to a hidden room in the hunting lodge Moray had taken over. _Now I will take all I have worked for, with, or without Her Ladyship's approval! And let her lose the rest of her wandering wits in a Federal prison somewhere, or let her die on a Yankee gibbet. It matters naught to me! I have all I sought after all this time, all this while you thought you were gaining your vengeance, My Dear Lady! _

_Let you wonder, for as long as you have the mind to wonder with, how it came to be that I won all and you came away empty handed and broken? Let you and your beloved ghosts whisper and ponder the glorious ascension to his rightful place of Heydon Moray, Esquire! Not for one more moment than I must shall I bow and scrape and flatter you, my Dear Mad 'Empress Eugenie'! Not for one more moment than I must shall I suffer such fools as you and Harper anywhere around me! He will be dead before another week's out, and you… well, I care naught … _

_Except that you will never learn now who it was who prompted, plagued and finally pushed your Dearest Neddy to his lamentably early end! Except that you will never know how I lied and told half truths and repeated the vilest of gossip to a lad who held his family name somehow more sacred than anything in his foolish young life! Except that you will live and die your life out believing Heydon Moray was your suitor, your friend and supporter always, when nothing could be further from the truth! Yes, I have won and you will never even know how profoundly you have lost this game of ours! _


	22. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

''You know, Mac,'' Jemmy grinned broadly at his mentor, teacher and superior officer. ''In his own way, if this works, Adam could constitute an entire second front.''

''He could, Jem. I think he really could, if this works.'' Thomas Macquillan albeit with every show of great reluctance agreed.

'' What do you mean, _if this works, _partner?'' Adam demanded, still smiling. ''It's a sure-fire addition to the diversions we've already got in the works. And with you along as my poor old, rich as Croesus codger's trusty physician, Jemison old man, it'll get you into the compound, with no trouble whatsoever, to go help your cousins.''

''My cousin Cooper can take care of himself prett dang well, Adam. I thought you'd have picked up on that by this time, partner. And I know Slim can see to Jess as well as just about anyone, apparently my younger east Texas cousin has given our rancher friend plenty of practice patching him back together. '' Jemmy insisted.

'' But, that being said… '' Adam grinned.

''But, with that being said, I'm absolutely, absolutely going into that compound with you. You've been looking a tad bit peckish lately, and peaked, as well. And I am certain sure that means the same thing now it meant last year when we were looking for these same danged murderers, down around St Joseph.'' Jemmy answered.

'' And that would be what, exactly?'' Adam asked, although his darkening expression made it very clear he knew the answer.

'' It means you're going without enough sleep, enough things to eat… of the right sort, and without giving that once in a generation mind of yours so much as a moment's rest! And all that means, Adam is you're turning yourself back into a prime candidate for another heart seizure! And as not only your partner, but your doctor and your friend, I'm not about to let that happen!'' Jemmy scolded.

''I think you're exaggerating, just a tad bit here, Jem.'' Adam answered, his grin completely gone now. '' I feel perfectly fine… if a just a bit picked on! I haven't had so much as a twinge in the old ticker since the time you're mentioning. And Mac, before I even think of letting this worry-wart steamroller on two legs me out of doing my job here, I'd like to mention the fact that what happened in St. Joe was after two years of getting nowhere on this case at all and then finding Sgt Caulder's body… with his whole skull nearly smashed in! That kind of thing would give anybody a seizure, if you want my opinion.''

''Or even if we don't?'' Jemmy asked, shaking his head. ''Okay, I've made my case for and against you're doing this as well as I know how. I gave Thomas back lead agent on this debacle. So, it's up to you now, Mac. Are you going to let ''old JonD' here and his trusted physician climb that hill in search of his great-grandfather's Revolutionary war medals, or his grandfather's shares in a gold mine, or his father's hoarde of bearer bonds, or make us stay here pacing and waiting for the bloodied but unbowed and G-d willing, triumphant return of our friends already in action?''

Now Macquillan favored both his protégés and friends with one of his patented majorly discouraging frowns and started to shake his head.

''Thomas, for G-d's sake, we can't just sit down here kicking our heels while Teo, Kiery, Jere, Ori, Rand and Chris follow our all too willing but still civilian cohort up that damnable hill!'' Adam exclaimed.

''Mac, I don't like to admit this … not very often, anyway… '' Jemmy said, putting his hand on his partner's shoulder. '' But Adam's right, this time, anyhow. We need to get up there. We've been breaking our backs and more often than not, our hearts on this case for more than two years now…''

''And as usual, Youngster, neither one of you is letting me get a word in edgewise, much less answer your questions!'' Mac replied. ''But you two aren't going up that hill… not without me, at any rate.''

Adam and Jemmy exchanged surprised glances and then both laughed aloud.

''And just what do you two troublemakers find so amusing about my condition on your latest harebrained scheme?'' Macquillan demanded.

'' Nothing, really, Thomas.'' Adam answered, quickly molding his features to a more serious cast.

''Nothing at all, Prof.'' Jemmy added, doing the best he could to follow suit. '' Except we thought you'd never ask!''

Widow's Retreat, outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

Solomon Howell was not at all happy, nor had he been seen with anything resembling a grin on his lean features in longer than most of the Company could rightly say.The so-called Tribunal Heydon Moray was orchestrating for the Widow had stalled and would be going nowhere anytime soon. There would not, therefore be either a conviction or an acquittal for the Company's former Commander, Lee Henry Richard Morrissey, until that quasi-military, quasi-legal body reconvened.

And on that decision, 'the Colonel' knew, many of the Company men were still waiting to make their own final move, either to 'Moray's mob' as some of the boys called the prosecutor's allies, or to Howell's half' as those committed to the Georgian were sometimes known. Added to that concern were the constant shifts in mood and temperament and pure temper the Widow Pascale was having these days. The Company had always reacted with all the sensitivity of a touchy bronc or a broody mare to the Widow's changeable nature. And these days her nature, her opinions and the targets of her rages seemed to change almost on the hour! She'd obsessed over her 'charge' for weeks on end and then all but abandoned him to her servants' far rougher handling as if she'd forgotten Harper still lived and breathed.

She'd agreed to, and then stormed out of a good half dozen meetings with Lee Henry, and then did the same when Moray asked for a private moment or two of her precious time. She first demanded the operation and then the suspension of the tribunal. And now she was alternately patronizing and ignoring Solomon Howell, a fact that did nothing to ease his temper.

Tonight, Howell decided to avoid the Widow, any and all of Moray's boys, and everything but his accustomed duties and set out to make rounds to every point of the watch set for the compound. With the place being a good quarter acre long and half that distance across, the Colonel had a long tramp to make, and that suited him just fine. He'd taken over the watch, and so every man out there tonight was one handpicked by Howell.

Then everything began to go straight to Perdition, in some ways Howell refused to believe at all, in some ways he refused to consider as anything but his own and the watch crew's weariness, and in other ways Howell knew exactly who to blame for. The trouble started as soon as Howell reached his second sentry, Darry Ashton, and found the rangy, dark haired young man in something very much like a panic. In fact, Darry nearly jumped into the old spruce tree just over his watch-post when Howell coughed to get the younger man's attention.

''What's going on here?'' Howell demanded.

'' Oh, hey, Colonel!'' Darry grinned apologetically and shrugged. ''Sorry, sir. nothin' really… Just for a minute there I … I'm sorry, Colonel, I must've been … kinda daydreamin' or something. ''

'' And why would you say that, exactly, Mister Ashton?'' the Colonel asked, keeping his manner and bearing completely somber, despite an odd urge to chuckle at the boy.

'' Well, Colonel… I … well, sir, Colonel… I thought certain sure I saw… well some… somethin' I couldn't've seen at all… y' see?'' Darry told him, with another grimace and another shrug.

'' And what did you think you saw?'' Howell asked.

'' Well first of all, I could've sworn I saw ol' Devlin Jackson lopin' on th' hill right there, sir. An' not half a minute later, I was certain sure them two Hoynes boys, Seanny an' Danny come on behind ol Devlin, arms linked an' howlin' drunk too, they was. An' I couldn't' have cause we all heard how those three went on down t' Denver an' got themselves shot dead in a bar fight down there. We all heard how those three boys got dead when they tried cheatin' th' wrongest fella they could've, playin' cards when they were all just … crazy drunk.

An' then… Colonel, I gotta figure you won't credit this a bit: But then just a little while later, just b'fore y' came on over, I could swear I watched young Neddy Morrissey… Th' Commander's… mean t' say, Lee Henry's boy that died, back in Chey. For just about a minute, Sol… Colonel, sir… I could've sworn I saw young Neddy traipsin' up the hill there, towards the far corner of the main wall… down thataway. '' Darry said and pointed past Howell to the lowest point on the old stone and mortar wall. ''But I couldn't've seen them boys … now could I? Cause they're all of 'em more n' a month gone by this time!''

Howell knew better, but most of the Company didn't and he saw no reason to alter their understanding of what did or didn't happen in Cheyenne, or after. And technically, Howell considered, Darry was absolutely right. Jackson, Sean and Danny Hoynes, as well as "Neddy2' had been gone from the Company for a good six weeks now. '' They have indeed.'' the Colonel therefore agreed with his young watchman. '' And you're relieved of the watch, as of now, Darry.''

'' Oh, Colonel, sir! I warn't tryin' to get off duty, no sir! Colonel, I know a mortal lot of the boys have been duckin' out to see what little there is to see down in that spur-head… But I ain't done that and I don't figure to, sir.''

'' And I don't figure to keep a man who's falling asleep posted on the watch. Go back and either get some coffee or some sleep, Darry. Maybe that way you won't have any more daydreams when you're back out here tomorrow night.'' Howell ordered.

''Oh no, sir! I won't sir! 'mean t' say, yes, sir, Colonel!'' Ashton grinned and sped off towards the bunkhouse behind the mansion.

Howell looked around this section of the wall and seeing that it could be clearly seen by the watch he'd posted in the loft above the stable, decided to leave Darry Ashton's 'daydream' out of his official notes on the evening. At the next watch-post the Colonel got no report of ghostly visitors or daydreams. But the reason for that lack didn't please Howell one tiny bit. Abel Denholm was missing from his post entirely, which dereliction would have had him summarily executed during the Conflict. Holding back on that sentence, Howell strode further down the wall, and found both the Denholm twins, at Abram's post, too caught up in their own argument, it seemed to even hear him coming.

'' Attention!'' the Colonel called out. '' Mister Denholm what possible reason do you have to report to me for leaving your post while on duty, sir?''

Both boys whirled around in shock and dismay at their superior's question.

''Colonel, sir, I heard my brother, Abram here, let out a yelp like as if he'd caught his leg in a bear trap, sir. So I … took a good, hard look around from my position an' seein' nothin' an' nobody anywhere around there, sir… I come down here on th' double quick t' see what was th' matter with Abram, Colonel, sir. An' Colonel first thing I should've let you know is Abram ain't been drinkin, he never would, sir, not on duty, ' so that ain't it at all, sir. But Abram…'' Abel answered, swallowing hard.

'' You seem entirely unharmed though, so what precisely was the matter with you, Mister Denholm?'' Howell demanded of the other towheaded youth.

''Colonel Howell, sir… it ain't likely you're gonna believe me now… 'm not entirely sure I believe… m' own eyes, as it stands, Colonel sir.'' Abram told him, looking more and more shamefaced by the minute.

''But you 'yelped' because you thought you saw something?'' Howell prodded.

'' 'He couldn't've , Colonel, not a bit. An' I told th' boy so. I told him, Abram, you never saw them, cause it just ain't even possible, boy. An' I told Abram… '' Abel started explaining, keeping one eye on Howell and one on his brother, now.

'' I think your brother should be the one to tell me what he couldn't have seen drunk or sober, Mister Denholm.'' Howell insisted, wondering if the tension in the compound was worse than he'd suspected.

'Umm… yes, sir. I could've sworn I saw… but, Colonel, Abel he set me t' rights on that. Cause I couldn't've seen either one of 'em!''

''Who couldn't you have seen?'' Howell roared in pure frustration, not unpleased with the way his anger made both young Denholms jump half way out of their hides.

''Colonel, sir, you ain't gonna like it… '' Abram warily muttered now, shaking his head and looking like he'd already taken a reprimand. '' Colonel Howell, sir, fact of th' matter is Abel's right I couldn't've seen … I only thought I saw Ol' Tyler, sir, Ol' Ty Pierce, sir, that got dead by way of a danged horse throwin' him an' clean breakin' his neck in pieces, b'fore we ever quit quarters back in Chey, sir. So, I only thought I saw Ol' Tyler stridin' up th' hill there, wearin' a bandolier an' carryin' his ol' favorite Sharp's repeater, Colonel.''

Howell groaned, he knew that damnable Creole was dead and buried, nearly two months ago! He remembered getting the news from Mickey Stewart, a fellow who had no reason to lie about any such things. And he remembered giving the news to Lee Henry, and swallowing a curse, when the Louisianan actually shed tears for that scalawag, Pierce!

''Well, the man's dead an' gone, Mr. Denholm, so you're right, you couldn't have seen Tyler Pierce, coming up that hill, or anywhere else this side of Perdition.'' The Colonel agreed. '' So, _who else's_ ghost did you think you saw, boy?''

''Well, Colonel, sir, there's th' thing, sir!'' Abram mourned, looking like he wished the earth would swallow him at any moment. '' T'other fellow I thought I seen, he's surely been planted even longer than ol' Tyler! An' I know he's purely gotta be that way, Colonel, cause I seen him getting wailed on, getting th' tar beat outa him, when we was still back up on th' North Platte. But Colonel t' other fellow I thought was traipsin' up that hill surely looked t' be that Smith, that other Texan… from th' immigrant train, who we took down… back in Nebraska!''

Solomon Howell glared at both boys now, wondering if they'd simply gotten so bored on watch they decided to hoax him! '' Well, again, you're right, that Smith's dead as a doornail. And you were there that day, so you know it, Abram. You were ridin' escort for The Widow. But she rode back to Quarters that day alone, except for Phillips an' Jaimey Johnston. And we all know Missus Pascale questioned whether or not that dang fool Smith lived or died after we left him face down and bleedin' out in' that streambed...''

''But there's no way he warn't a goner!'' Abram insisted. '' Colonel, we did ever' thing _but _put a bullet hole in his skull, for him that day! Colonel, sir, I don' know … I can't tell you why I thought I seen them fellas… I must've been plumb imaginin'… things!''

''And is that your report, Mister Denholm?'' Howell asked, holding back a grin at the boy's plain folly.

'' Yes, sir! Dead men … they don't get up an' walk around. They purely cain't, no, no, sir.'' Abram nodded. '' Can they?''

''No, they surely can't.'' Howell frowned, thinking he should be checking

each and every canteen these young fools brought out on watch with him.

But he was certain sure he knew who the frightened lad must have mistaken for an immigrant-train scout dead two months and more, named Cooper Smith.

It shouldn't even be possible for the only Texan anywhere on this compound to be wandering loose, Howell considered. After seeing Harper carried into the mansion some weeks back, and from there to the lodge, still lolling on a stretcher, profoundly unconscious and badly battered, the Colonel would have thought the troublesome fellow might have simply died by now. But Harper lived on, however drugged or tormented or cosseted by Moray and The Widow he might be now. And those boys who still reported in to Howell these days had an even more bizarre tale to tell about Pascale's latest crop of mad delusions.

She'd been heard, Howell's sources said, over and over again since bringing the young Texan to her compound, acting as if her patient wasn't Jess Harper at all but her long dead younger brother, Neddy! It was absurd, Howell thought. No, it was patently insane! And clearly, the Widow was growing more insane by the hour, Solomon Howell considered.

The late Edward Denys Morrissey the second and this dang fool Texan, this Harper, were different as day and night! They were complete opposites in looks, in manner, in schooling and in background. They had two and only two things in common, riding for Terry's Rangers' H Company during the Conflict, and being wounded in the fighting around Atlanta. And as Howell believed he understood now, better than ever, those bonds of wartime friendship and suffering were the things that doomed them both and all too many of their cohort.

'' All right. Each of you, back to your posts, _and stay there_ till change of watch… no matter what you hear or who you think you might have seen. Understood?'' The Colonel barked, feeling the need to be even sterner now with these over imaginative boys.

''Yes, sir!'' the Denholms chorused and Howell was satisfied that he'd put the fear of Command back into their danged fool heads. Reaching the far corner of the wall that formed the main protection for the compound, Howell started to climb the wall where a good ten years of massive snows, not a few washouts and landslides had taken down half the structure.

''Hey! Mean t' say, halt, who goes there?'' Joey Davidson, who had this post tonight called out, leveling his repeating rifle at the Colonel. And the lad kept it there, until Howell turned all the way around and gave the evening's password.

''Good job, Mister Davidson.'' the Colonel complimented the stocky, sandy haired youth, earning a wide-eyed astonished grin.

''Oh, thanks, thank y', Colonel, sir!'' Joey answered, shouldering his rifle. '' Guess I could've figured it was one of the brass… mean t' say one of the senior officers out here checkin' on … things. Sorry, Colonel.''

'' Don't' ever apologize to me for doing what you're ordered to do, boy. Now, that being said, I am out here checking on conditions. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary tonight?''

'' No, sir. I ain't seen nothin' in particular. But I … '' the boy stopped and began a profound study of his boot-tips.

''But you what, you heard something?'' Howell demanded.

'' Yes, sir. An' it was pretty strange, cause I could've sworn I heard someone hummin' 'Yellow Rose of Texas' one-minute and 'Green Grow th' Lilacs' th' next. An' y' know we ain't got no boys from Texas in th' Company, never have, far as I know. So… it did seem kinda odd t' me, yes, sir.'' Joey told him.

''You're right, Mister Davidson.'' Howell agreed. ''We've never recruited anyone from Texas. So the only person in this compound likely to even

know those tunes is our friend, Harper. So, Joey, you heard this humming from inside the compound, did you?''

'' Well, now y' ask, I think that's so, Colonel. Hey, d' y' figure that Harper fella's got loose from ol' Moray an' th' Widow an' started runnin' around th' place? Hey, ain't he plumb crazed, Colonel?'' Joey asked, looking still more worried.

_If Harper wasn't crazy as a loon when he got here, all the dope the Widow and Moray are giving him has likely done the trick! _Howell thought. But again that wasn't something he was about to let his cohort know. ''I don't know the man's state of mind, and I don't care to. It's none of my business, none of anyone's business now but the Widow's; I'd have to say.

What I do know is Harper can't get out of here if we all keep watch as well as

you're doing, boy. So, don't let your guard down. If he's crazed or not, he's still a dangerous fellow, certain sure. And he's wanting to get th' hell away from here, I'd have to guess, by now.'' the Colonel answered. ''Go back to your post, now, Joey and keep your eyes and ears wide open.''

'' Yes, sir! '' The young man beamed at Howell and even gave a fairly smart salute.

Howell returned it and went on with his walk around the compound, heading towards the eastern wall as he did so. He had eight more men on watch at different points along the length and breadth of the wall, and four more posted to the highest points inside the main structures, the stables' loft, the mansion's attic, the bunkhouse roof and the hunting lodge' widow's walk along its top floor. With all of them keeping good watch, Solomon Howell was certain the Company would be secure enough to hold the place against all comers, if only it's infighting would just come to some sort of conclusion, one way or the other.

''And whatever it comes to, best be sooner, rather than later.'' Howell muttered, shaking his head. The small army he was no longer Second or Commander of was already deeply divided and shaken by the plain unalterable tension of not knowing what was coming. From day to day Howell could almost see the nerves of the boys and men within this compound stretching with pure frustration at one delay after another. From hour to hour, the Colonel could almost hear the temperature and the temperament of all involved rising to explosive levels.

The cat had to jump one way or another and damn soon, or there would either be a total mutiny or a massive, murderous brawl inside these old stonewalls.

Howell stopped now, to look out over the eastern slope of the Laramie Range foothills this compound sat on. All the troubles inside these walls he considered were nothing compared to what very well could be coming at them from the outside, almost any time now. Their enemies out there were numerous, wealthy and powerful, like all DamnYankees, Howell judged. And if the Company was very, very lucky, the ponderous size and weight of the DamnYankee, damn Federal Law would slow it down long enough for the band to finish their endeavors once for all and scatter.

Howell himself meant to take ship for the West Indies at his first chance, taking himself and his memories back to the islands where he'd found and loved his lost Cirri. From talking to his cohort, the Colonel knew Geronne meant to head for Mexico and hide away there from any and all Federal lawmen, while Adamson said he was too used to Howell's company to quit it and would go see 'those danged islands for m'self'. Those two long-term companions were Howell's main confidants and always had been, especially after his quarrels with Lee Henry flared into a bitter silence between them.

Where the 'old battle crows' that the Widow recruited to her grand endeavors would go when all was finished here, was something Howell found himself wondering more and more these days. None of them were equal to any real fighting, now, and would surely perish in misery if taken to some Federal lock-up. All of them had been valiant warriors for the Southern Cause, and all of them were more or less destitute afterwards for just that reason. Perhaps, the Colonel considered again tonight, he could persuade these men he so honored to accompany him to a kinder, more compatible climate, to one of the islands that had no extradition agreements with the damn all Federals! A footfall behind him caught Howell's ear now, but he stayed put another moment.

'' Wool gatherin' on watch, are you, Colonel Howell, sir?'' a sharp edged, bitter voice called out from behind the Georgian now. Whirling around to face the speaker, and drawing his Colt in one swift motion, Howell found himself looking down the barrel of Brady Reid's new repeating rifle.

''Guess you weren't exactly paying any good heed to your surroundings, now were you, Colonel, sir?'' Tim Tierney laughed harshly, walking up beside Reid now. '' That's not the way you taught th' boys to keep watch, now is it, Colonel Howell, sir? .''

''I heard you, all right.'' Howell answered without allowing any expression into his voice or eyes. '' I just wasn't interested in anything you had to say.''

'' And what about me, Colonel Sol, sir?'' Tim Tierney, Rafe's older cousin demanded.

'' You heard me, too, just then? You gonna listen to me, now?''

'' Not as long as you keep on making such lousy choices, Timmy, no, I won't.'' Howell told him, looking past this pair to see if any more of 'Moray's mob' was coming to the 'party' now.

'' Lousy…. , Colonel? Don't figure I know 'xactly what y' mean by that.'' Tierney drawled, his tone mocking if not downright challenging now… '' Mi' mebbee you could be a tad more clear on that, Colonel Howell, sir?''

'' Well, just for starters, boy,'' Howell said, knowing his choice of words would anger both men, but especially Tierney, as the older of the pair. Tierney's temper was the worst of the two, as well and knowing that, Howell went right to work.

'' You're out here interrupting me, while I make certain sure the watch is set up correctly and the men posted to it are doing their duty. And that, alone don't make you look like you know how this Company still operates. On top of that, you're out here alongside a man no one in the whole, entire Company fully trusts these days, mostly because Brady here can't seem to keep his temper decently in check. And that alone don't make you look too awfully smart. And last, you're addressing a superior officer here, sir, without a trace of the proper respect. In fact you're stepping closer and closer to being insubordinate! You do take my meaning now, don't you, Timmy-boy?''

In response, Tierney growled and took one long, lunging stride closer to the Colonel, with fists cocked and eyes flashing. But now Reid grabbed the older man's arm before he could get close enough to take a swing at Howell.

'' That ain't what we come out here for, Tim.'' Reid hissed to his companion. '' Leastways I wasn't given any orders sayin' I was to start in brawlin' with the Colonel, now! An' you might also recollect I was given charge over this little 'sortie'. So you're takin' my orders here an' now, Timmy-boy, or you're headin' back t' th' lodge t' tell the Man why you ain't down here, backin' up my play!''

''He all but called me stupid, Brady!'' Tierney snarled. '' Am I supposed t' just take that, now? Am I supposed t' just stand here an' take th' both of you talkin' down to me? Well, I ain't about t' do anything of th' kind! I should have charge of this here 'sortie', an' y' dang well know it, Brady Reid! You never got above Sergeant's rank in th' Conflict, as I recall, boy. But _I made full First Lieutenant_, ridin with ol' Lee Henry's regiment, an' I was just about t' get m' Captain's bars, when the whole, dang shootin' match went an' ended! So how you'd be th' one of us givin' out orders here is way beyond me, Brady-boy!''

Reid glared and shook his head at the older man, and prodded Tierney in the chest with every point he made now. '' I'm givin out the orders here, on account of th' Man we work for these days gave that job of work t' me, not you, Tim. An' I'm not about to waste another second on any more stupid arguments. What d'you want, Tim? D' you want th' Colonel here t' give us th' slip whilst we figure out who should be orderin' who around out here? Well, we ain't gonna do anything like that, now! You're here to back me up on this here business, an' that's purely it!''

'' Well, go get your business done somewhere else, will you, Reid?'' Howell demanded, chuckling at their quarrel. '' Because no matter whatever the man you work for wants now, I'm still not interested. So, Just go on about your business.''

'' And what if I was to tell you you're my business tonight, Colonel, sir? What if I was to say I need you to pull out your Colt, left handed, then drop it down an' kick it over to me, right this minute. And then your gunbelt, right after it, right now?'' Reid demanded.

''An' what if we both said y' need t' put your hands up, empty just as soon as y' get done with all that droppin' an' kickin', Colonel, sir? What if we both decided, Brady an' me t' hog-tie y' just so you'll be that much less trouble, now?'' Tierney demanded, with a feral grin spreading across his unshaven features.

'' I'd say I'm goin' to be more trouble than either of you boys ever imagined, if you have the damn foolhardiness to try anything, now! And I'd say you both missed your chance to get your business done the easy… or better put, the coward's way. Now didn't you, Mister Reid, Mister Tierney?'' the Colonel told him. 'And I ain't dropping or kicking anything right now, unless it's dropping a slug into your mangy hides and kicking you straight to Kingdom Come!''

''Don't dast call me a coward, damn you, Howell!'' Reid jeered, his temper rising so sharply Howell could see his face redden. ''I won't take that from a man who's spent three years now, comin' at folks from behind, like you done, Colonel, sir, sneakin up an' killin' both a woman an' her kid on that immigrant train!''

''An' I ain't never onct snuck up behind a fellow, neither!'' Tierney called out. '' I never onct came at a fellow, jumpin' him an' knockin' him flat, th' way I hear your boy 'berto did with that fellow Smith, back up on th' North Platte, that time!''

'' Oh, so you had nothing to do with old Moray sneaking up and wailing on Harper's skull with his rifle that day back on the lakeside, is that what you're claiming now, Brady? You weren't _anywhere near_ the lake that day, right?

And you, you, weren't ever one of the dozen fellows Moray took along to kick the stuffing out of his prey once he was down for the count, right? Because you two don't sneak around and come up behind anybody, ever?''

''Shut it, Howell! Just you shut it! '' Reid shouted. '' You're no plaster saint when it comes to catchin' up with and catchin' the folks we've gone after all this time! We had orders to get that lousy turncoat's letters and such, and he wasn't bein' any kind of helpful, so I needed to … encourage the boy some. Too bad, figure he went and died anyhow an' still we got no papers.''

_None that you'll ever get your hands on, anyhow. _Solomon Howell wordlessly considered. _I got the lot of them shipped off to Lee Henry's solicitor back in N'Olins just this morning ,as a matter of fact, another matter of fact there's no reason you should be knowing, Brady._

'' I don't know what you might be yammerin about, there, Reid, Anyway, I had another question, this one for your big brave partner here that'd like t' truss me up! You were tryin' t' tell me, somethin', weren't you, Tierney? You were tryin t' say that _wasn't you_ either, Timmy-boy, back in St Joseph, who snuck up on young Sergeant Caulder and all but clubbed his brains out for Moray, that time? Or is that just the song you plan on singin' should the damnYankee law catch you up anytime soon?'' Howell demanded turning his dark cold gaze on the older man.

''Ain't no damnYankee rope ever been made that'll go around my neck, damn you!'' Tierney snarled. '' An' I ain't never been an' never gonna be scared of any thick headed, tangle footed damnYankee lawman, neither! Let 'em try for me, an' see what they get! Let em' just try for me! I took that Caulder-boy out, back in St. Joe, sure!

I done that just like we all done th' rest of them damn all turncoats an' Yankee-lovers! They was traitors every single one, an' deserved everything they got! An' you used t' be th' first one t' say so, Colonel- damn your eyes- Howell, sir! So what's th' matter now, Colonel go an get them damn all traitors-Howell, sir? You've never had any trouble with any job of work The Widow gave you, not even when it came t' murderin' her brother's kid!

But nowadays you've got some sort of scruples, is that what we're supposed t' think? Nowadays you've got some kinda problem with all the dirty work still left we gotta do or find our necks stretched! Well, it don't make no never mind t' me, Colonel- goin'-hell-fer-leather-away from all them DamnYankees-nowadays-Howell! Well, me an' Brady we ain't afraid of any DamnYankees anywhere! Me an' Brady we've got things just about sewed up here, now. So you might as well just give over, cos we come t' make sure, just like ol Moray wants it, that you're sewed up too!''

Now Solomon Howell nodded to himself. Moray was 'the Man they took orders from these days, and the one who'd sent them after his main rival.

The former Charleston prosecutor had finally decided to make his closing move, it seemed. No more pushing or prodding or provoking, he wanted Howell thrown out of his path on a permanent basis. A cold, bloodless kind of humor rose in Howell's thoughts now. He would be almost glad to have this over, no matter how it ended. But he had no need to make his bitter thoughts known to these two smiling would be assassins. And he had no desire to make their business easy for them, either.

''Fine,'' Howell said, grinning tautly. '' You c'mon and try sewin' me on up, boys. Just make certain sure, before you start, that you've got some damn-all tough hide to bag me with and some real strong sinews, an' some bone needles, for stitchin' up my shroud! Oh, you forgot t' bring 'em? Well, dang, boys there's somethin' else it seems like y'all forgot. I've still got my Colt an' my Bowie on me! Y'd best c'mon an' get 'em, on th' double-quick!''

That stopped Reid and Tierney cold in their tracks, staring at the Colonel, which only made Howell want to laugh aloud at them for being shocked by his open contempt for them, and his stoic manner. _These boys will never learn how to read a man, I guess, not if they haven't got that lesson down by this time!_ _And why should I waste more time learnin' then a damn thing? Well, maybe I can at least 'learn them' how a real man makes his last stand! _

''Well, which one of you is gonna go ahead and throw down on me?'' Howell demanded. '' Not you, I guess, Tim-boy, right? Didn't Sergeant Reid here say you were only down here 'to back his play'? Well, c'mon, then, Brady-boy! C'mon, Timmy! I'm just about sick an' tired enough of all this not to give a flying damn how I get back to Cirri! Well, I'm waiting?

Oh, that's it, isn't it? You don't have the guts for a gunfight, do you, boys? No, your whole idea was to get me with your damn repeater, wasn't it, Reid? Or were th' pair of you rowdies actually gonna double-team me? Cause if so, that's hardly the way one old soldier should do for another, is it?''

''Cirri… that was your girl from down in Th' islands, right, Colonel?'' Reid asked him, with a sneering smile Howell wanted to blow right off his face.

'' And a real beauty, too, that little Cirri was, is what I heard, …for a darky!'' Tierney added, and that was all he got the chance to say.

'' She was no such thing, damn you! Shut your lyin' faces!'' Howell shouted, and let his fury take him over completely. Too angry now to care, Howell threw his revolver to the ground and lunged at the pair, as they seemed just ignorant enough to stand close together. Surprise worked in his favor, once more. In another instant they all were rolling on the ground, punching and kicking each other like schoolboys at recess.

''Colonel! Brady! Timmy!'' A chorus of young voices called out now from back along the wall.

Now, while Howell was busy trying for his Bowie, and trying to keep both his assailants busy, half the boys on watch, and more, rushed up and joined the fray. In the next instant, Darry, Niall and Morgan Ashton, Joey Davidson, Davy Torrance, both the younger Stewart brothers, Rand and Jaimey, Matty Hearkins, 'Kelly' Brennan, Luc and Brody Hamilton, Kiery Tanner and Des Kuenle were all tugging, tussling, kicking, cussing and struggling with each other. Then Roberto Geronne increased their number, along with 'Mi' and Rhys Howlys, Thad Kuenle and Mickey Stewart

Rand Stewart, Luc Hamilton, Des Kuenle, Kelly Brennan and Mi Howlys, Morgan and Niall Ashton, all counted among Moray's admirers, all tried, in twos and threes to get the Colonel or his Bowie knife away from Tim Tierney before the older man got his throat cut. But Joey Davidson, Darry Ashton, Rhys Howlys, Davy Torrance, along with Brody, Thad and Kiery out fought them all, finally forming a raggedly curving defensive line around the Colonel and his opponent. These microcosms of the Company's factions went at it with a passion, earning bruised faces, aching jaws and battered limbs for all concerned in no time.


	23. Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO outside the Widow's Retreat, near Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

'' Looks like they're creating our diversion for us, fellows.'' Jemmy Singer grinned as he and Adam, Coop, Mac, Slim, Jere and Danny, Rand, and Teo met at the lower section of the compound wall, barely three yards away from the melee. They'd spent nearly a quarter of an hour watching and listening and keeping their heads well down here, as the Company men started openly quarreling.

''Yeah, remind me to thank them for that, later.'' Coop agreed, grinning crookedly. For the sake of confusing the killers even more, the scout was wearing a pair of worn denims and a beat up work-shirt and jacket, borrowed for the purpose from Jess' limited supply. But to Slim and Jemmy, he seemed to have put on his younger cousin's disparaging manner. with Jess' clothes. '' What's wrong, now, Jem? What'd I say to get you and Slim gaping at me?'' The scout demanded.

'' You just … you sounded a lot like Jess, just then, Coop.'' the rancher answered, shaking his head. '' I thought I'd learned to tell you two apart. But I'm not so sure of that, now, not right this minute.''

''He's right, Cooper.'' Jemmy agreed, nodding. '' I wouldn't have thought I'd have any trouble saying which is which and who is who between my east Texas cousins. But right now, with the way you look and more than that, the way you're talking, I'm more than a tad bit confuddled. You've surely got a handle on that way Jess has of always sounding… cagey. ''

'' Well, sorry fellows.'' Coop chuckled. '' I came up here in this outfit, thinkin' to confound a lot of killers, not my friends and kinfolk. B'sides' who'd you think taught that cagey youngster everything he knows?''

'' Frank Harper.'' Jemmy, and Slim immediately answered, and then all of them laughed quietly. '' And Nathaniel Cooper, Jennifer Cooper Harper and Beth Cooper Smith'' Jemmy added with a sad smile remembering the fiery, fiercely loving old man, and his beautiful, indomitable daughters.

''Daniel Smith and Stephen Singer had a hand in there, too, from what I've learned, just lately.'' Teo put in, winking at his mentor.

'' And to those, I'd add Matthias McGregor Sherman, Jr.'' Adam finished, clapping the rancher on his shoulder.

''Nope, not me! But I'd add Daisy Cooper. She's put a lot of work into me and Jess and Mike, from the day she got here.'' Slim smiled, and then grew somber. ' So, do we split up here, and just try to make as much trouble as we can while we're looking for Jess, now? And don't you think they might have moved Jess out of that lodge your friend Giles mentioned if too many people saw him there?''

''I think the answer to that depends on who's truly in control up here, now.'' Teo answered. '' And from what we're seeing and hearing, right over there, I'm not sure anybody could be. Lee Henry and The Widow both wouldn't stand for the boys brawling like that. But Heydon Moray probably eats it up. He's a born and bred agitator, that one! ''

'' All right, gentlemen, and I use the term only very loosely in this company.'' Macquillan told them. '' I think our best bet now is to split up in teams, as planned, making contact as we go with the fellows we already have up here; That means we're looking for Giles Boudin and Rafe Tierney, Addison and Noach Deveraux, Mickey Stewart, Thad Kuenle and Rhys Howlys, Brody Hamilton, Matty Hearkins, Kiery Tanner, Miller Nash and Gabe Colville.

Finding them, or at least the ones who aren't up to their necks in that melee, is my job, mostly, but also Jem's and Adam's and some part of your work here, too, Teo. But before you and Slim go off half-cocked, Cooper, I'm going to tell you again that, as civilians, you can't take off completely on your own, up here. I can't allow that, no matter how much you want to. So, Teo, you'll pair up as we already said, with Slim. And Jemmy, you'll stay with your cousin, at least until we've met up with more of our fellows. And yes, Adam, that means, you're with me, for this trip, so stop grimacing all of you and let's get moving. Damn!''

'' What's wrong, Thomas?'' Jemmy exclaimed as quietly as he could manage as his mentor glared over his shoulder, shaking his head and frowning.

'' Prof, are you all right?''

'' I am not!'' Macquillan told him, pointing past Jem and Adam to the corner of the compound. '' Young Neddy's up here, and he's brought G-d only knows who with him! I knew I should have taken you up on your offer to hog-tie the youngster, Slim.''

The small group turned, following Mac's gesture. Not five yards away, where one end of the compound wall dovetailed into another, Neddy Morrissey was scrambling over the wall, followed by three more men.

''Hold on, fellows, I thought we were the ones trying to make these fellows see ghosts, about now!'' Rand Alexander exclaimed, turning to his mentor, Teo Bracamante with more questions. '' Teo, do you see who that is, coming over the wall right behind Neddy, there? And weren't they supposed to have died in a bar fight down in Denver, a month ago?''

'' I see them, Rand, and I surely wish I didn't. But that bar fight, well it was Brody Hamilton's notion, really to spread the word that those three firebrands finally dealt their cards crooked to the wrongest possible gun hand. Mac, Rand's right, we know those fellows… I just don't know what they're doing here.'' Teo told Jemmy's former professor.

'' The tallest one you see there, the sandy haired fellow, that's Devlin Jackson, and right behind him, the light haired scrawny built fellow and the copper redhead, are Sean and Aidan Hoynes. G-d help us all, I hope they haven't been drinking, tonight!''

'' Well, looks like we need to make some sort of diversion to cover those fellows, now.'' Coop suggested. '' And as much as I'd like to pin young Neddy's ears back for him, right now; I'd say Mac's right, we'd best get movin'! I'm thinkin' at least some of us should try drawin' those brawler's attention away from th' wall, just now. An' if Jem and I go off towards their left flank, maybe Slim and Teo can take the right , and that should give you, young Rand here, and Adam a wide open shot at the center. Well, you comin' Jemmy, or do I get to 'open the ball' without you, after all?''

'' I wouldn't miss this 'party' for the world, Cousin.'' Jemmy groaned and rolled his eyes. '' Even if you are sounding more and more like Adam, every minute!''

'' And you have a problem with that, why?'' Adam, Slim and Coop chorused.

Swearing and kicking ferociously, Brady Reid was yanked away again, and held back by both Denholm twins. Then 'berto took great pleasure in pulling Reid away from his youthful captors and knocking him on his backside with one powerful left hook to Brady's jutting jaw. Reid got right up and flung himself on the much taller, heavier set Geronne, like a David going at another Goliath, and they both went down, this time. Grunting and sweating, they rolled on the ground, and neither one gained an advantage for some minutes.

Reid proved too quick for the bigger man to keep hold of, while Geronne was simply too strong to be much more than annoyed by the smaller man's assault.

''Damn you, 'berto, I ain't come out here tonight t' wrestle with ya!'' Brady snarled, kicking and punching the bigger man.

'' Nope, ya just came out tonight t' do fer m' friend Sol, dint ya, boy?'' Geronne sneered back.

'' Ya tryin' t' railroad me now, boy?'' Reid demanded, panicked and twisting to get out of Geronne's powerful grip, now. '' Cause y' never heard me say anything like that! ''

''Don't have to hear it, Reid, Ye're out here loaded for bear, even got ya a shiny new repeatin' rifle. Ol' Moray he'd be th' one paid for that there fancy firearm wouldn't he, Brady-boy?'' Geronne laughed bitterly, keeping his grip on the wiry younger man with hardly any trouble.

'' Moray's been throwin' a lot of cash money around, just lately, from what I heard and what I seen! He's been tryin' t' buy up a lot of th' younger fellas here, with fancy gifts and even fancier speechifying'!

Figure he's bought an' paid for some of the old-timers too, from what I seen and heard t'night though, Brady. Yeah, looks t' me like ol Moray's gone and bought up ol Tim there an' you, too! So, am I right about that, Reid, did ya get yer damn all _thirty pieces_ _of silver_ from that icy bastard yet, or does that only come yer way when Solomon's six feet under, thanks to your high-class, new shootin' iron?"

' Nobody nowhere owns Brady Reid, ya hear me? An' ya said … thirty pieces?… Hell, 'berto, th' Colonel ain't never been worth that much, neither quick nor dead!'' Reid hissed, struggling and finally getting one arm free to pummel Geronne. '' B'sides, ol Solly, he's hardly likely t' be called anybody's damn all savior, now is he? So I ain't gonna let ya call me Judas, either! Matter of fact, that's th' bone I come down here t'night t' pick with ol Solomon there!''

Now, with an angry grunt, Howell pushed and shoved until Tierney was on the ground staring up at him. Then the Colonel shook his head and set the hooked point of his Bowie's blade firmly against the older man's throat, just where his pulse was throbbing hard enough to be seen.

'' All right, Timmy boy, here's the choice you have to make now.'' Howell grinned fiercely '' And you're gonna want to make it the right one, this time. You can take back all those lies you told about my Cira, and on the double quick. And then you can tell the truth, that Moray filled your thick head with just those stories. Or you can go straight to the devil, just as soon as I push this knife a tad bit harder! So you think good an' hard for another minute, boy. And then you tell me which it's gonna be!''

''I only said what I heard.'' Tierney rasped, as Howell just barely moved the wide, hooked blade away from his Adam's apple. '' I only said what I was told. How th' very devil was I supposed t' know it would make ya go crazed on me?''

''Oh you knew that damn lie would do exactly what it did, you miserable piece of scum!'' Howell grated, keeping his grip on Tierney as he sat up now. '' You were told t' say that to me, huh? Then you were surely told how I'd take to it! Moray told you what to say and so he must've told you what I'd do to the man who maligned my Cirri!''

''I only said what I was told.'' Tierney repeated, never taking his deep-set hazel eyes from the Bowie knife and the hand that held it. ''An' all I was told was th' woman was a …''

''Shut your mouth!'' Howell snarled. '' You shut your mouth and keep it shut, now, boy! Cause if you dast say her name again, you're a dead man' you hear me! I should've stopped your breath before you could ever so much as pronounce her name! And I could by rights, still do that, right now!

Trash like you should never even think of a girl like her! Trash like you and Reid should never even imagine a woman like my Cirri, who was in fact my wedded wife! D'y' hear me, boy? Cira was the woman I wed ten years before th' damn all Conflict ever started! And she hadthe lightest yellow hair and the brightest, bluest eyes, and the most flawless peaches and cream complexion of any woman ever born!

What is more, the whole damn Company knows I was married to Cirri nigh onta fifteen years, by the time she passed! What is more, all the Company knows I never looked at another woman while Cirri lived or after she died! And: even ol' fancy pants Moray has got to know this, I'd never so much as touch a mix-breed, let alone a darky!

I wouldn't if she turned out the damn-all Yellow Rose of Texas! So, there's only one thing you can say, now, boy, if you want t' go on breathin' that is! You lied about my girl, my Cirri and you know damn well you were lyin'. Say it, damn you, Tierney, Moray put you up to this, and told you to lie to my face about my Cirri! Say it, damn your eyes!''

''Yeah, sure, all right, So, Moray told me to say that.'' Tierney finally answered flatly. '' I don't recall his sayin' it was a damned lie. Mebbee he said it was, mebbee he dint. So, all right, you say it's a lie. So, all right, figure you'd be th' one t' know, wouldn't you, Colonel? So, are you gonna let me loose now, or no?''

'' Against my better judgment, yeah.'' Howell agreed, and shoved the bigger, older man away from him. Then the Colonel got to his feet, and pulled Tierney up with him.

''But you stay right here, Timmy-boy, right here, with Mickey and Thad and Brody keepin' close eye on ya. Seems like I've got me some business to finish with your friend Brady, if 'berto ain't done for the boy yet. Thaddeus, Mickey, Brody, what all y'all might not have had time to catch is this; This damn fool and his partner, Reid came down here t' the wall t'night, with just one thing in mind. They came all; the way down here from th' Lodge, at ol' Moray's bidding, just t' do for me!''

'' We never done any such thing! Howell's lyin'! He's lyin' through his teeth now!'' Tierney almost squealed. But even the boys who, like him had made their choice for Moray, against Howell were glaring at him now. None extended a hand to help, or back to hide behind. Racing around the circle

all the combatants except Reid and Geronne formed now, Tim Tierney saw not one friend. And he knew exactly why that was.

Two thirds of the Company men had been and still saw themselves as soldiers, even with the war ten years past. They knew every line that could be crossed and all those thot should never be so much as stepped on. Challenging an officer's decisions, mocking a leader's ways fell well within the former category and was gleefully done, from time to time. Taking an officer's place, when he'd not wronged his men was chancier, still.

And the murder of an officer went far beyond the Pale, excepting only when the murdered man slipped through one loophole or another of military justice. And the younger men in the Company, many of them present right now, were often more fervent than their elders on 'regular Army ways'.

Tierney had already been judged and found guilty by this informal tribunal and he knew it full well. So he ran, hoping to pass through the only loophole left him, the one created by a sudden gap in the line. Panicking, he made for it, and found himself neatly tripped up by Mickey Stewart's long legs.

'' Umm, Tim, I've never known th' Colonel here to lie about anything at all, much less anything as noteworthy as someone tryin' t' murder him outright!'' Stewart laughed, shaking his head.'' So, figure you're still th' one here who's spewin' lies, boy. An' he told you t' stay put here. So, Just off hand I'd say you'd best stay put an' shut your lyin' mouth!''

''He's lyin' all right!'' Brady Reid now shouted, struggling with Geronne , who still held him back from Howell and the others… '' Timmy's lyin', boys, he's the only one came down here after th' Colonel. I only followed ol' Tim t' see if I couldn't keep him from some sort of real bad trouble.''


	24. Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE same night, same location

'' Hold it! Hold on just a damn minute!'' Mac ordered keeping his voice well down, but still commanding.

'' Yes, sir.'' Teo, Rand, Jem and Adam automatically answered, all but coming to parade ground style attention at his tone.

Coop and Slim simply stopped and waited, having learned to respect Macquillan very much during their short acquaintance. They'd also learned the senior agent rarely used his authority, much less his Irish temper in their dealings, unless he saw a real need for either one.

'' All right then. Listen up. Nobody's taking any flanks here, not until the word is given. And that word has to come from the senior agent here. And as much as I wish it wasn't so, that agent happens to be me. Also, we're still, supposedly, waiting here for the rest of our friends who aren't somewhere on that compound.

We agreed to 'gather the clans' here before we made any further moves, remember? So we're still waiting for Ori, Tierney, Chris, and just possibly, a contingent of marshals, led by Sheriff Corey. And as much as I respect and I might even agree with your line of thought , Cooper, I can't allow a civilian, any civilian to run this operation. It's just not what we do, not in the Service.''

'' Oh, sorry, Mac, I guess I … forgot to tell you. Mort's waiting down at the spur head, right now, for however many of the marshals he contacted can make it. Guess I thought he'd let you know about that. '' Slim told the senior agent, shrugging. Then the sound of several pairs of booted feet, all trying to soft-foot it along the outside of the wall caught the whole group's attention.

They were far too close to the Company men to try calling out for a password and they all knew it. Moving almost as one, all six would be invaders took cover now, taking care to ready their weapons. Then, as Slim watched with no small admiration, Mac nodded to Adam, who winked at Jemmy, and the Raleigh native let loose the flute-like, gurgling, descending scale notes of a Western meadowlark's call, and they all heard it repeated, three times.

''That's Ori. And he's got Chris and Tierney with him, just as expected.'' Jemmy told them, as the trio he'd named appeared, pistols drawn, in case they were walking into a trap. ''You boys almost came too late for the party! And by the way, who was it plumb forgot to teach you how to sneak up on the bad guys? B'cause whoever he was should go take those lessons over, himself. as soon as possible.''

''Umm, that was you, Jem.'' Ori chuckled. '' Leastways, Adam always claims he didn't teach me a dang thing when I was the new guy on the team. But what I want to know is, who taught you to do bird-calls? That was some real fine warbling you did, just then.''

''Who taught me… ? '' the Carolinian asked, scoffing. '' I learned that sort of thing when I was knee-high to my Granma Celia's verandah, back in N'folk! Wait, wait, now I get it, you've started to believe Adam when he claims I'm completely tone-deaf, right?''

''No, Jemison old man.'' Adam chuckled. ''You've got it backwards, again.

I'm always claiming you've got a real gift for music, partner. It's our Boston Brahmin here, who can't carry a tune in a bucket, Sorry, Mac.''

''Never apologize for telling the G-d's honest truth, old friend.'' Macquillan answered. ''All right, let's get this division of our forces settled, now that all the forces we can reasonably expect tonight are finally up here. Adam and I already have three on our team, with you, Rand 'riding shotgun' for us.

So, Teo, you'll take Chris and Tierney along with you and Slim, so that young Tierney doesn't get overwhelmed on his first field job. Jem, you'll take Ori along with you and Cooper, making up our southern contingent, as it were. And please note, I will be _very disgruntled_ with any one of you who comes back empty-handed, that is, without arresting at least some of these killers, first. And I will be _very, very_ _unhappy_ with any one of you who comes back dead, understood?''

''We understand, Thomas.'' Adam quietly laughed at his old friend and mentor. '' You'd very much prefer it if we come back shot half to pieces, but alive and bearing prisoners, and even better, bearing young Jacob back to his friends and kin.''

'' That sounds about right, yes, Adam.'' Mac nodded and then frowned at the entire group. '' Well, what are you waiting for _this time_? Go on, get moving!''

''Great G-d! Great G-d, Brady, what are ya doin? Are y' tryin' t' put me in front of a dang firin' squad, all on my lonesome here? '' Tierney shrieked, staying down, this time.. '' Don't you believe that scrawny bastard, boys! He came down here, on his own, an' I was th' one doin' all th' followin'! He came down here, meanin' all th' while t' take th' Colonel out!

All I done was repeat what. Ol' Moray told me … that's it! An' when I done that, ol' Sol, he went purely out of his skull! So I fought him off, just like y'all seen me doin, the Colonel havin' that murderous blade of his! I ain't no kind of murderer, boys! I ain't nothin' but another ol' soldier, just like th' lot of you!''

''Shut up, all of you! Keep still a minute, damn you!'' Solomon Howell ordered. And he was pleased, although he wouldn't show it, to see that even some of 'Moray's mob' obeyed him out of long habit. He'd given none of his watchmen any non-verbal signals to use, and yet here was a warbling, garbling bird call coming out of nowhere! Once might have made it a natural sound. But when it came back exactly the same way three times, that could only mean trouble for all of them.

''Well, you've all done a great job of diverting the watch from their jobs, my fine buckos!'' Howell snarled when no further bird calls or signals were heard. '' And that means whoever it is out there making a racket, had plenty of time to come over the wall! So which one of you fine ol' boys had ol' Moray's orders to stir up just this sort of commotion down here tonight?

C'mon, c'mon now, it can't be all of you've turned as yellow as Timmy and Reid! First, tell me who really started this fracas; and then you tell me when the hell did that damn all Dandy, Moray, start working for DamnYankee law?''

'' Ain't nobody started a ruckus down here but you, far as I can tell, Colonel, sir!'' Brady spat. '' So mebbee that last question shoulda gone to you, Howell! Yeah, I think mebbee you should be th' one answerin' our questions, now!''

'' I answer to no one, and least of all you, Brady-boy. But to satisfy the rest of y'all… no, I never started anything I couldn't finish, unlike these two here. '' Solomon Howell said, never taking his eyes from the younger man's face. ''And I've about had it with your damn hints an your worse implications! You got somethin' t' say, say it out! You want t' tell these boys somethin' bout me, you go on an' tell 'it now!''

'' Brady, he ain't got nothin', Colonel!'' Tim Tierney called out. '' He ain't got the brains or th' sense that G-d gave a gander!''

''Shut it, Tierney! Just shut up!'' Howell demanded. '' I've heard all the damn lies from you I can take. Now I want to hear from your damn all yellow bellied partner! Well, c'mon Reid, you told me yourself you had some business with me. C'mon we're all listening now! What th' hell was it?''

Reid glared at the Colonel and for another moment it seemed he would spit in Howell's eye rather than answer. Then the wiry younger man grinned defiantly and laughed aloud. '' Well, all right, Colonel sir, if you're that sure you want them to hear this! I come on down here, like you said. Cept it was on nobody's orders but mine! I come down here to tell you what I finally figured is the real source of the trouble we're all likely in.

I come down to make sure you know I've got you all figured out, Colonel, sir! You call me a coward in front of my friends? Well, Howell, I wasn't gonna say this in front of anybody but you an' G-d, but you done changed my mind about that! All y'all boys, I want you t' take a good look at this big, brave ol' Colonel Howell of ours! You look him over an' you think about how he's run this Company … Yeah, run it right inta th' ground!

He's the one got us into every bit of trouble an' danger we're in for right now! An' he's thrown th' blame on everyone else he could reach! Hell! He's thrown th' blame on folks that are dead an' gone an' past worry! An' you've all heard him do it. An' you've all believed th' old bastard! Cause, like th' Mick there just told Timmy, ol Colonel Howell here, he don't never lie! ''

'' Hey! You cut that out, now, Brady Reid!'' Mickey Stewart demanded. '' Th' Colonel he's done a lot of things, like who hasn't …. But lyin' ain't one! An' as for castin' blame well ain't that what you're doin now, boy? Best you just stop, now, or come up with somethin' worth our hearin'!''

'' No, no, let the boy run his mouth, I asked him to, Mickey.'' Howell said. '' C'mon Brady you've got to have more than that for me… And you've gotta have more for them, if you've got any hope left they'll believe you, now. Lets here it, Reid. You started yammerin' again and still you're makin' no sense! What th' hell have I done and not took full blame or full credit for? You tell us, you can't stop now!''

'' I ain't stoppin for nothin' nor nobody now!'' Reid shouted. '' I ain't lettin' you go Scot-free one more minute, Colonel, Sir! You listen t' me boys, while he's lettin' me talk, cause I ain't got any doubt he'll plug me, when I get done, or have ol berto or Zekiel or Addy do it for what I'm gonna say!

Th' Colonel's the one who's got all your necks ready t' tuck right inta a row of DamnYankee nooses, friends! He's th' one who done somethin so all fired stupid it's worth every damn one of your lives! He's th' only damn traitor in these parts, right now, as far as I can figure! An' he ain't and he never will take full blame or full credit for that!''

'' You're quite the liar, aren't you, Brady?'' Roberto Geronne demanded, striding over to stand half way between the Colonel and Reid. '' You've got you some kinda tongue on you, don't you, boy? But I don't hear anything yet t' make me believe you over th' Colonel. Ain't you got any facts t' relate, like they say? Ain't you got any proof for what you claim?''

'' He ain't got t' prove nothin' t' you, 'berto!'' Young Desmond Kuenle called out, rushing over to his friend, Brady. '' He ain't got t' prove nothin' t' ol Sol there, neither! Ain't we got us a damn all tribunal for cases like that? Ain't we got ol' General Traherne runnin' it fair an' square now? I say we take Timmy an' Brady right on over t' him! I say we take our friends safe away from Howell an' his pals, fore they take it in mind t' start knifin' _a couple more likely innocent boys_!''

''Innocent?'' Thad Kuenle demanded, shaking his head at his nephew. ''Des, where in creation did you get that idea? Timmy an' Brady here came after th' Colonel, wantin' to kill him outright could they get their way! An' we know that's nothin' but true now, cause each of 'em just _innocently _ratted out th' other! Nephew, I'm thinkin you need your ears checked for beans, or maybe your mouth washed out for lies! And most of all, we all need the plain truth of the matter here settled. So why don't you quiet down and listen to your elders, for once?''

'' We done nothin' but listen t' all y'all for nigh onta four years now!'' Niall Ashton now shouted, joining Brady and Desmond. '' We done all th' listenin' t' a lot of old men we're likely t' do!'' his brother, Morgan agreed, striding over to join the knot of younger men.

'' If you don't listen, boys, you just might have t' feel.'' Geronne muttered, glaring at the boys. ''Well, c'mon Brady!'' Roberto Geronne demanded. '' You said you've got somethin' t' tell us against the Colonel.

An' all I heard so far is a lot of hot air! Like I said, I was there by that streambed back in Nebraska. An' … that Smith, that scout…far as I saw, far as I know, he was just another danged fool ol 'boy that went t' work for a lot of DamnYankees! So we took th' dang fool down, so what? So, he wasn't Harper, so what? We got th' right boy, now, don't we? An' what in blue blazes has that got t' do with ya comin' after Solomon?'' Geronne demanded.

'' Ain't all of us cowed by your damn bullyin' 'berto! Ain't all of us shakin' in our boots just cause th' Colonel lost his temper! C'mon boys, show 'em what you're made of! C'mon boys, stop lollygaggin' an' come on over t' stand with us, an' ol Brady now!'' Luc Hamilton cried, rushing over with Kelly Brennan and Rand Stewart at his side.

'' Looks t' me like you've got all the boys with you you're likely t' get, Brady, specially since you went and turned on ol' Tim.'' Howell stated, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as the matter to be settled took yet another damn twist.

'' I don't need any damn liar and swindler's backing, Howell! I don't need anybody but these good ol' boys t' cover my back! An' that's cause I know what I'm sayin' is nothin' but true! I know what I'm sayin' is all the truth all y'all need t' hear! So you just put a lid on it, 'berto! I know what I'm sayin' an' so does ol' Sol! But are any of y'all hearin' him say it? No, no, Sir!" Brady shouted, .

" He's gotta blame boys who can't even answer th' roll any longer, much less answer Solomon Howell's damn all charges! No, he's still blamin' our troubles on boys we ain't never gonna see this side of Perdition! No, he's still puttin all our danger on three boys who can't even speak for themselves anymore! I mean t' say th' Colonel wants us all blamin' ol Devlin Jackson for th' damn fool mistakes he made, ol' Dev an' ol Seanny an 'even poor young Danny Hoynes, that never onct done him no harm!

You were there that day, 'berto, an' so were you, Abram Denholm, an' so was poor young Neddy that ol Solly here decided he'd better kill, too! Ol Tyler Pierce, who can't answer no more was there. An' so were you, Thad Kuenle, an' Luc Hamilton, an' you Kelly Brennan, Robby Torrance, an' Niall Ashton, an' you, Rand Stewart! So all y'all know even better than us fellows that dint get t' that party!

All y'all saw how ol Solly here took after an' wailed th' livin' daylights outa 'nother east Texan! Only, guess what? That warn't th' right boy from east Texas was it? That warn't any one of those boys from th' 8th Texas! That warn't any one of th' boys we been lookin for all this time, not at all! All y'all saw how th' Colonel nigh onta murdered that east Texan, that Smith fellow, up on th' North Platte! Only, guess what, that was th' wrongest ol boy from east Texas we coulda ever took down! Only, hey, guess what? That couldn't've been ol Solomon that mistook that Smith for that cousin of his! Nope, that _couldn't've ever_ have been ol Solly's mistake!'' Reid shouted, too angry now to pay much heed to anyone but the Colonel.

'' That's real interestin' Brady.'' Geronne drawled. '' Yeah, that surely is. Only thing is boy, that dog won't hunt! I was there, just like ya said, I was there up on th' North Platte that day. An' that Smith fella, that scout, he was nothin'! He was nothin' t' nobody that I ever heard! He was nobody an' nothin' t' anybody but his whole blasted family full of turncoats! His daddy went t' all those DamnYankee schools, and made him a mortal lot of Damn-Yankee friends there! An' his momma she tookt shot-up Yankees inta their house whilst the shootin' war was still goin' on down there in Texas!

An' that's nothin' Brady, nothin' at 'all t' what his worthless, spineless baby brother went and done! That boy went an' fell for a DamnYankee slut-spy! An' th' only good thing about it is he got himself so tangle-footed our boys caught him up an' shot him dead! An' big brother, what'd he go an' do when all them was gone? Hell, he lit out an' went t' work for more DamnYankees than y' can shake a stick at, that's what! ""


	25. Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

'' The only good thing about it? Jeffy getting shot? Damn him!'' Coop growled, and started over the wall, furious at what Roberto Geronne, not three yards away, was saying about his folks. Moving together, Ori and Jem each grabbed one of Coop's arms and just barely stopped his climb. Shocked and still angry the scout turned around scowling, but neither his cousin nor Jemmy's younger partner from San Antonio let him loose.

'' Damn it, Jem, Ori, you let me go, and right now! I'm not lettin' anyone, much less that murdering bastard say that about momma, Daddy or Jeff!''

'' No, sir! No! I'm not letting my older east Texas cousin get himself in the same kind of trouble Jess is in, right now, with the rest of this murdering scum!'' Jem hissed back, just as angry, still keeping his grip on Coop's right arm, nodding to Ori to keep hold on the left. ''I hear you, Cooper. I do. But you're still going nowhere till I give the word!''

'' And since I don't work for your President or for Mac Macquillan or you, Jemison, suppose you tell me why I should wait for that?'' Coop demanded, glaring from one agent to the other and back.

'' It's simple, really.'' Ori Hoynes answered, surprising both cousins a bit. '' Thomas Macquillan happens to be who I work for. And as one Irishman to another, the darlin' man, knowin' my penchant for coming out of these little adventures alive, ordered me to sit on either one or both of you two firebrands, if need be. And I always obey Mac's orders, unlike some of our mutual colleagues who shall go _unnamed,_ for now.''

'' Ori means Adam and me, I suspect.'' Jemmy sighed. '' And he means what he says, Cousin. He's done it before. So just give it up, Cooper. We can't go after the bad guys all stirred up like a kicked-over hive!

And if you want to know how I finally learned that, well, that's a lot of the reason I'm a little short-handed, these days!''

''Jem, '' Ori shook his head. '' This probably isn't the best time for tellin' that story.''

'' It isn't, in some ways, but in others I think it's just about perfect.'' Jemmy insisted. ''And we don't have a lot of time to spend on the telling so listen to me now, Cooper, please just listen.''

'' Jem, you told me what happened.'' Coop argued, peering at his cousin. '' When I was just comin' around back in Plum Creek! You told me you got a crazed kid with a jammed Colt away from Sam Grant. An' now you're sayin' there's something to add?''

'' There surely is. And this is the quick version of it: Adam went out on the same case, with people trying again to send someone to kill President Grant. And he was badly beaten and left for dead. In fact he was beaten as badly as you were back in Nebraska, Cousin, to within an inch of his life! Well, I wasn't in the District at all when that happened. That was around the same time Granma Celia in N'folk was dying. And when I found out, I was fit to be tied.

So out I went, after the people that nearly killed my partner. Out I went, half crazed and mad as a kicked over hornet's nest! And the upshot was I got in the worst trouble of my young life! And Cooper, you know all about most of the trouble I've been in. So you can figure, surely, why I say _that time was_ _worse_. Or maybe you can't!'' Jemmy said, and looked away, wincing at his absolute worst memories.

'' Jemmy, no.'' Coop told his cousin, putting one hand on each of the younger man's shoulders now. '' Cousin, I know _every scrape_ you ever got into. So don't try tellin' me now there's to tell me, something worse than the time you came down to home, down to east Texas, just before Jeffy turned seven that fall? Remember? You'd just got kicked out of another fancy pants school? Why you said that was surely the worst shame a body ever could suffer. And then on top of all that, before you could even earn a decent amount of the family's sympathy, we got word of what happened to Jess and his folks! ''

''And that's when I should've learned once and for all never to feel sorry for ol Jem!'' Singer answered, shaking his head glumly and frowning. ''Well, there's one scrape you don't know so I may as well stop feeling sorry for Jem, and tell you and get back to work. It wasn't only young Cameron who was sent after the President that day, Cooper, the day I …. lost my arm.

He wasn't the Courier-assassin, poor lad! He was only their standby, only their damn all reserves! I … I was their Courier, me. I drew my own Colt on the President that day.

And the Man, the President himself, he was the one who kept me from killing us both! And he was the one who wouldn't let the Congressional Committee Leaders, or the Service, or anyone else in the District, kick me purely out of my job, after. Now, Ori's right, as almost always, which G-d knows I find purely annoying. But we have a friend and a cousin to rescue here, don't we?''

'' You're a good, brave, caring man, Jemmy Singer.'' Coop said quietly, nodding. '' And on top of that, my estimation of your President just went up by quite a few notches, too. Now, c'mon both of you, let's go get that rascal Jess outa here, what d'ya say?''

''Well, what I heard is it must've been th' Colonel got us goin' after th' wrong damn all Texan, an' he ain't about t' let on! He ain't, 'berto, cause it was killin' that Smith fellow that most likely got those Federal coppers comin' for all of us ever since! That's what I heard, anyhow, cause it turns out that scout, that Smith fellow had a lot of Yankee friends an' even some kinfolk with a mortal lot of pull with those Federal coppers, an' marshals an' such.'' Brady insisted, and seemed to be almost reciting a lesson, now.

''So, when we took that Smith out, we got a lot of folks with a lot of say real riled up, specially since he warn't th' boy we wanted! An' you know I'm speakin' th' truth here, don't you, Colonel? You're th' one practically sold all of us on down th' river, don't you, Howell? An' you know you're th' one who put every man jack of us in line for a DamnYankee jail or a DamnYankee gibbet! Well, this ol' boy ain't goin' near either of them! An' you ain't givin' out any more lies!'' Reid shouted, desperately lunging towards the Colonel, raising one fist with the hunting knife Niall just gave him in it

Once more now, Geronne stepped between Brady and Howell, but once more the Colonel shook his head. Letting Reid come at him, Howell almost laughed aloud at the prospect of another good brawl. But this one had better end with either himself or this damn fool Reid, dead. Brady was coming on too fast to stop now, his fist clenched on the knife hilt, his eyes glinting with rage. That was his first, maybe fatal mistake. Howell by contrast felt utterly calm, as he had ever since the pair of would-be murderers walked up behind him.

They went down together in the next instant and Howell began laughing in earnest All around them, the brawl was starting again. Maybe this was the only way, he just barely took time to consider, the 'matter' could be resolved, after all. Rolling and punching, kicking and struggling with Reid, mostly trying to keep away from the pig-sticker some one of those damn fool boys gave him, the Colonel found himself oddly light-hearted. Either this violently untrustworthy adherent of Moray's would end up hollow-eyed and stiff in death at any moment now, or Solomon Antony Howell would die.

And neither prospect bothered the Colonel all that much, even as he noted Brady was growing more frantic, and more afraid with every passing moment. Letting Howell sense his fear, that was Reid's second and definitely lethal, error. And out of long habit, more than anything else, the Colonel quickly took advantage.

''C'mon, Brady,'' Howell whispered, laughing at his opponent. '' C'mon boy, you're losin' it, you're scared an' you're slippin' badly now! C'mon, either make your move and get it over, or give yourself up t' dyin' at my hands!''

'' I ain't!'' Reid gasped, as Howell put a choke hold around his throat and then, just barely released it '' I ain't th' one's goin' down here, this time! You went an' picked th' wrongest boy you ever could've, this time, Howell!''

Now the crack of gunfire echoed across the compound and Howell laughed again, just as the tip of Brady's knife, the hilt still gripped hard in the younger man's strong right hand, seemed to do nothing more than scratch his left side. After that first 'bite' though, there was no painhe could discern and not much blood that he could feel. So the Colonel went back to choking the breath out of the wiry young Missouri-native. Finally, without even enough breath left to curse Howell out, Brady Reid shuddered harshly, went limp and died.

And finally, now, Ezekiel Adamson, Addison Deveraux and six or seven more of Howell's cohort raced down to the wall. They came on shouting at the still milling, still brawling crowd of Company men. But only when Zeke and Addy each got off another rifle shot apiece into the open night sky, did anyone in the several knots of combatants and watchers take any note of them, much less stop.

'' Break this up, you danged fools, and I mean now!'' Adamson shouted, reloading and re-aiming his shotgun. ''Or the next two rounds go right into somebody's hide, here. And I'm not too certain sure I give a flying damn _whose_ hide that ends up being!''

All but five of the combatants separated now, quickly obeying Adamson and Deveraux's weapons, even those who otherwise would have defied Howell's long time supporters. Abram and Abel Denholm, kept a good hold on Tierney, despite the now even more terrified man's struggles. And Solomon Howell still had a literal death grip on Brady Reid, both of them still on the ground.

'' All right, Sol, we all know you've been in a lousy temper, lately.'' Deveraux chuckled, grinning at the sight his old friend made. '' But breaking up the watch like this is not the most highly recommended way to get the boys to ease up, you know.''

'' Isn't it, Addy?'' Howell asked, pushing Reid's corpse away from him with more of an effort than he expected to need.

'' Well, you could be right, old hoss, you surely could. But they do look tad bit more peaceful to me, now. Well, Brady here surely is. Seems like th' boy had one hell of a mad on for me.''

''Brady, he went plumb crazed, Colonel!'' Tim Tierney cried out. '' I tried, I tried t' stop th' boy, Colonel! I …''

'' Shut it, Timmy.'' Adamson advised him coldly. '' Nobody here wants to hear _anything_ from any of Reid's pals, right now. Well, Solomon, are you getting up sometime soon? Or are we gonna have t' cart you an' Reid both back over t' the mansion, there? And what do we do with ol' Tim?''

''Oh, I'm just… catchin' my…. breath ,Ezekiel. I'm… fine. I'll be with you… boys…. directly. ' Howell lied, and even that seemed a bit more trouble than he'd expected, too. And there was more, there was worse. His thoughts were moving like panicked ponies in mudslides, getting just about nowhere.

The whole left side of his shirt was sticky, warm and wet. And his whole left side burned and ached. He wasn't going to make it. And he didn't likely even have time to lay that on his long time friends, not now. They all had at least one more campaign to wage, and The Colonel was determined his 'half' of the Company would win this one!

"You… divide up our boys an…' give 'em a couple of things t' keep 'em too busy t' make any more … trouble. Some of … 'em t' take Timmy…boy there an' lock him up in th' wine cellar… we found under th' mansion, an' t' keep… keep him under …so close a guard he cain't … blink an' them not… know it, d'you hear?

He's not… t' talk t' any… of … Moray's … mob. An' he's not t' … have any way of … takin' th' …. easy… way… outa … his troubles.. An' any of …these great… babies… that were sidin' … with Brady… a minute past… well, you … keep them close guarded, too….They're not t'… be … trusted… as far as… any…thing… You got that, Zekiel?" Howell demanded, breathing as hard

as if he'd just lost a footrace.

" Sure, Sol, sure." Adamson nodded, not liking a bit the loss of color in Howell's face or the slowness in his speech now. " But I'm gonna send Addy to do all that, friend, cause you're …"

"You'll …do what you're… ordered, Mr. Adamson!" The Colonel grated, turning a coldly furious gaze on his friend. " An' if you can't figure… that's more need… ful now… than … ever… I'll… give … Th' job t' young Joey, there, who … at least knew… how t'… stand th' watch tonight!"

"'All right, Colonel, sir. All right." Zeke Adamson responded, frowning darkly, shooting a worried glance at 'berto Geronne and one at Addison Deveraux while he was at it. All three of them had ridden alongside Howell since their "Conflict' started at Fort Sumter. All three knew just how obstinate, and how harsh the Colonel could be just to get his way in a taxing situation. Something was up with Howell now, something was as wrong as it could get and all three of them guessed it. And all three of them knew their late General's chief aide had always said he'd 'leave the ball, alone', if he had any say in the matter.

"'All right, Solomon." Adamson went on and wasn't surprised when Howell nodded back, and mouthed a soundless thank you. "Timmy, you're comin' with me, with' our new Second in Command, young Joey, 'scuse me that's Mr. General Davidson, Abel and Abram, too, as your guards, now. And so are you comin' on along Niall, Des, an' Kelly. And so are you, Luc, Randy an' Morgan, but you're not guardin' anything or anybody!

An' you're gonna be restricted t' quarters, in th' old part of th' bunkhouse fer now. But, you heard Th' Colonel. If we hear so much as a sneeze in th' wrong direction, that direction bein' Moray's, you'll be locked up as tight as ol Timmy, or as dead as Brady, b'fore you can think twice about it! Does that meet with your approval, Colonel?"

"That's … fine." Howell whispered, and turned his gaze to Addy and 'berto, who looked just as troubled as Zeke, because they were. "Addy," he said, looking up at Deveraux' still handsome, although weathered, pockmarked face.

"Colonel, what I think you'd like me to do, other than leading a flanking attack on ol' Moray up at the lodge, is to take the rest of these boys on over to Adam Traherne at the mansion right now. That way, Thad and Mickey and Rhys, Mi and young Davy, and the boys who're just now coming off watch can report to him exactly what they saw happen down here. And that way, he'll hear the plain truth of it, before any of Moray's mob can even try more of their lyin' with him." Deveraux asked, sparing his friend and commander some much needed breath.

"Then, I think you'd like to have the boys Zekiel's got restricted to quarters have their say with Traherne, with some of watchin' to make sure they don't get … carried away. He's a fair man, old Adam, and has always been, for the most part. So he'll listen and he'll make his decision on whether or not we've just got a mortal lot of idiots here or a damn all bunch of mutineers! Would I be right in assuming those are your orders, Sir?"

"You would." The Colonel agreed, weakly nodding again. "berto." He whispered, turning to look up at Geronne's broad, angry features.

"Solomon, I'm gonna stay right down here." The tall, powerfully built man insisted. "I've got change of watch t' take care of, now, which y' know. Once that's done, I'll get you over t' ol' Doc Gabe Colville. He was settin with the Widow earlier on. Seems like she might've had some kinda damn all… dizzied spells, or palpatashuns or I dunno what.

Ol Doc Gabe, he's not too bad with a stitchin' up needle, which is what I've got figured y' might be in need of, just now. An' I'll keep Jaimey an' Darry with me, Sol, unless y' have somethin' better for 'em t' do, just now Once that's seen t' I'll go on over an' give Gen'rl Traherne my own report on what ol Brady done. He ain't th' best friend we've got on th' compound, but he's mostly fair, like Addy says.

An' while I'm thinkin' on it, Colonel, I think ya'd like all these youngsters thet are comin' off watch t' do what's needful an' then head straight fer their bunks. I think ya'd have 'em stay there, sayin' just nothin at all about this here commotion till they're told different. They're to keep shut an' just hit th' rack. Ain't that so?"

"'That's so." Howell nodded. In his present condition, and even at his best, he couldn't have fought this old friend.

"All right." Adamson growled, turning his bright blue gaze around the circle of anxious, angry, scared boys and men. " You all the Colonel's clear orders, now. And as long Solomon don't contradict me, I'm givin' out one more! All y'all listen up! This is it: As far as you know, until Adam Traherne, or The Widow or Lee Henry come an ask, there ain't been no commotion in this compound t'night. There ain't been no trouble anywhere on th' watch or on th' wall! There ain't been no dead men walkin' these premises, an' no fightin' amongst this here Company at all!

So as far as any of th' boys who might be comin' on watch, or who might be up at th' lodge with Moray, or who might be comin' back over th' wall from goin' on down t' th' spur head, nothin' happened! Just nothin' at all! An' th' first one of ye who I find out about spreadin' any such blamed fool stories is gonna wish he was where Brady Reid's gone just about now! Now you've got your orders, boys. Now, all y'all head on out!'' Adamson told them and sighed with no little relief as they all moved to obey.

Now, Roberto Geronne turned from chuckling at the blank fear on some of Moray's boys' faces to look after his friend and former Commander, Solomon Howell.

'' I …don't need any… lookin' after,… berto.'' Howell insisted, in a tone that never had, and never would take no for an answer. '' You …go on an' …do what …you 're s'posed t' be …doin' now. An' I don't mean settin' th' damn all watch! 'berto… It's too … it's way too… late t' worry about that! So… you… you… you tell Traherne what went on down here. I want him to hear the truth of it, right … now… this… minute! ' berto, we… need ….him to hear the truth before Moray, or any of his cronies and paid off boys can fill him with lies! So, you go on, now and I'll … I'll talk to you, later.''

"I said I was stayin' an' getting you t' th' Doc. Now that's what I said! 'sides, 'Zekiel ain't gonna like me leavin' you out here, Sol.'' Geronne complained, knowing the man too well to think he'd win the point.

'' He… don't have to… like it. He has his… orders. And …now you have yours. Or have you mutinied ……on me, too? Are you takin' Ezekiel's… orders over mine, now?'' the Colonel demanded, pouring every ounce of strength he still owned into his voice and expression.

Geronne shook his head. There was no arguing with the Colonel when he took that tone. There never had been. And despite what some members of the Company might think the strong man wasn't slow even a bit. Something was up with Howell and he wanted no one around. Howell had barely moved from the spot where he killed Brady Reid. Something was wrong and the Colonel would not let him stay.

'' I've always been both glad and proud to take only your orders, Colonel Howell.'' Geronne told his old friend and long time commanding officer. '' I still am, and I still do, sir. Should you see 'Zekiel b'fore I do, you tell him I said _just that_, won't you, Solomon?''

'' Should I see him before you do, I surely will do that, Roberto. Should you see Ezekiel, or Lee Henry b'fore I do, for that matter… '' Howell stopped, drew the deepest breath he could still find and went on. '' You tell them I'm just … carrying out my duty, my duty to the General and to his Widow's Company, as I've always been proud, glad and very honored to do.''


	26. Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

'Hey, boss-man!'' Coop called out, striding over to Howell, as soon as he saw the bigger man walk away. He wasn't here tonight to take out any grudges on the men who attacked him. He was here to confuse the Company men as badly as possible, find Jess and get him home. For that reason, Coop had convinced Jemmy and Ori to give him a few minutes to find out what was going on with Howell. The lean, dark former cavalry Colonel hadn't moved more than a few inches since the rest of the Company men left the scene. Either he was hurt in that brawl a lot worse than he'd let on, or he was waiting for someone else to show up. _Maybe both,_ Coop thought.

''Hey, boss-man!'' Coop called out again, laughing and keeping his tone light hearted, despite a nagging worry that the Georgia-native might still have his Bowie knife on him. '' Stop your foolin' around over there and come get me! I'm right behind you, right here!''

''Halt…. who… goes there?'' Howell rasped out, craning his neck in the direction of the Texan's voice.

'' What's wrong, boss-man?'' Coop demanded now. stepping around Howell to where the man on the ground could finally see his face. '' What's the matter with you, now? Have you gone blind now, as well as deaf? Can't you see me, boss? Can't you even hear me laughing at you, right now?''

''What… what th' devil, Har… Harper?'' Solomon Howell grated out, furious at his own swiftly increasing weakness. '' How th'… very … devil are you out… here? You… couldn't… last I heard… pick your head up… much less keep… your feet! How'd you get … down here? C'mon, Harper, who carted your damn scrawny ass down here from th' lodge?''

_We were right! Thank G-d! Jess is up here! Thanks for the confirmation, Colonel Howell, sir! _Coop thought, going by what the killer said._ Okay, Cousin, so far, so good. We're going to get you outa here and home before you know it, now, Jess!_

'' Who, me?'' Coop asked, blinking at Howell as if the Colonel's question badly confused him.

''I ain't talkin' t' nobody … else!'' the Colonel insisted. '' Now, you … you tell me, Harper, who got you cleaned up, fixed up an'…. down here! You tell… me! 'Cause they're… getting thrown… in th' same damn hole… they took you … out of!

''Have I been in a hole somewhere? Do I know you, Mister? Wait, aren't you the boss around here? Or was that some other fellow? Wait… my name's Harper? I thought it was Coop… Wow, I am kinda fuddled now! Is my name Harper? Harper what?'' Coop asked, watching as Howell grew angrier, and more confused, himself.

'' _Damn-fool Harper_ is ….what it should… be!'' Howell growled at the Texan, wishing he could stand up long enough to knock the fool down. There was something odd about the way he was acting. ''But you're… Jess …Harper, all right!''

'' So… I'm…I'm… Jess Harper… '' The scout echoed, shaking his head, studying the Colonel. The man had to be in serious trouble now or he'd surely have jumped up and caught hold of 'Jess' by this point. "'

'' Yes, damn your eyes! … Yes, you're Harper! You want me… or you want somebody … thinkin' somethin' else… about now… I'd… guess! You might …think that would get you some …free pass outa here. But the …Widow hasn't given out any passes… lately. And she surely ain't …giving one to you, boy… unless it's straight to … Perdition!'' Howell snarled.

''Wait! Wait, there's some widow around here somewhere… wants me t' … wants t' send me to Perdition? What for? I don't even know any widows but one, around these parts? What'd I do t' yours, anyway?'' Coop asked, continuing his 'fuddled Jess' routine, as it seemed to be getting him a lot more answers than he'd even hoped.

'' I don't give a …flying …damn what you …done! It was… nothin' to… me when we …started. An' it's less …than that…now!'' Howell growled at the Texan. He was fighting not only this incredibly confounded fool but whirling dizziness now. At best he'd broken some ribs wrestling with Brady, and one of them pierced his chest wall. At worst Reid had actually managed to stab him, and caught his left lung!

''Oh, you just came along for the fun of torturing and murdering Texans, right? It's always been one of your favorite games, isn't that it? That, and murderin' women and kids?'' Coop couldn't keep from asking. Howell wasn't paying him much heed though. Now the scout turned back towards the wall and gestured for Jemmy and Ori to head his way. And surprising the older Texan, Jemmy beat his younger, longer legged partner to Coop's side.

'' Get off… off me, damn you!'' Howell hissed as Jemmy immediately knelt and set to work examining his chest. '' Agh! Get off!''

''Colonel Howell, I will do that.'' Jemmy agreed, somberly and sat back on his haunches. '' But I have to be honest with you, now. I'm a physician and a fairly good one. But, as you may have guessed already, you have a severe knife wound and every indication of a collapsed lung. So, unless there's an operating room inside that mansion; with all the best will in the world, I can't do anything for you except perhaps, somewhat, lessen your pain. So, unless there's a miracle of some kind in the offing, Colonel, you must know you're a dying man.''

'' Yeah figured that! I never put much stock in miracles, Doc, not since there never turned out t' be one when one was truly needed! I'll do… without your …damn narcotics, too, if it's all… the same to… you, Yankee!'' the Colonel answered. '' … what's th' point? I'm done for, ain't I? An' you'd want me awake t' ask yer Damn Yankee questions, anyhow, right?''

'' Well, truth be told, my name's Jemison Singer, and I was born at my family's home just outside Raleigh.'' Jemmy told the Colonel. '' And If you do answer our questions, now, we'll be legally bound to take them as a dying declaration. First of all, the man sitting to my left here is my cousin Cooper Smith, the man you tried your best to murder, back in Nebraska. So you still need to tell us exactly where to find our cousin, Jess Harper, right now.''

''Well, what d'ya know!'' Howell rasped out. '' …ol' Brady Reid was partly right! You're a whole… lot more trouble… than I … figured… Har… Smith, whatever … your name is, these days!

'' It's Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper Smith.'' Coop told him. '' And we're still lookin' for our cousin, Jess. So where in blue blazes is he, Howell? And _who else_ do we have to go through to get th' boy away from you lot of killers?''

Howell laughed and coughed harshly, wheezing and spitting some blood, he noted.

'' Well, now that… depends a… lot on which way th' …boys decide t' …jump, now. An' I might… could've put …in a word …with th' boys…. th' boys still sidin' with me for y'all… But I ain't… I'm thinkin'… I ain't got… th' time, now… Less y'all can get me over t' th' mans… mansion… most of my boys … are keepin' around… there… now… ''

'' We'll do what we can for you, Howell. But you still haven't answered our questions, so c'mon, man, talk to us while you still have the breath to do it!'' Coop insisted, hating the idea that they were losing their best chance to find Jess without anymore killing needed.

'' I'm getting… to it… I'm getting'… there's mebbee up t' forty, fifty, sixty five guns in yer way, or there… or maybe … twenty… mebbee only twenty five … or thirty… ol' Moray he's …never had as …many of th' boys with … him … as he made out… An' he's got '…em mostly guardin' that … huntin'… huntin' lodge… '' Howell answered.

''And that's where Jess still is?'' Jemmy demanded, turning so that he was looking directly into the Colonel's cloudy, dark gaze. '' Is it, Howell? Answer me!''

The Colonel nodded, but couldn't speak again for another handful of minutes, as more hacking coughing shook him. '' Either… Th' Widow… or … ol' Moray… took … th' boy … on up … there…. three… four weeks …back, now… Figured it … was Th' Widow's … doin', at … first, cause her two… boys… her houseboys… they went on along… '' he finally said shrugging and groaning with the effort that cost him.

'' I dunno, mebbee… I did, what … Brady said… Did I, Cirri? Did I finally pick th' wrongest fight t' fight? Did I Cira? An' did I lose th' fight, after all, Cirri-love? Did I?'' Howell asked the exquisite spirit only he could see, now hovering near him. With all his remaining strength, the Colonel reached for this vision of his long lost 'beloved girl'. Then Solomon Howell fell back against Coop's legs, shivered violently and was dead.

'' Somewhere between sixty five and twenty gun hands?'' Ori Hoynes murmured, looking around and glad to see no one approaching. '' I surely hope he was counting some of our fellows in that number. And I surely hope Mac and Adam have connected up with some of our boys, by this time. And even then, Jem, boyyo, even at full strength, we can't exactly charge that lodge and have much hope… ''

'' Of finding Jess alive, once we got inside? You're right on that one,

Ori me-boyyo.'' Jemmy nodded grimly. ''We'd need the 7th Cavalry, _and _the Stonewall Brigade for that job! Adam's right, and I'm danged glad he's not here to hear me say so. We need _every single diversion_ we can pull to make this rescue happen.''

''Then we need to split up even more, to keep these murderers real busy, don' t we, Jem?'' Coop asked, expecting the Carolinian to lose his temper at the suggestion.

And he did. '' Cooper!'' Jemmy whispered tautly. '' Weren't you even listening! Weren't you listening to me or Mac or Adam all those times we said we can't let civilians put themselves in harm's ways up here?''

'' Surely, Jemmy. But weren't you listening when Slim and me both noted that, bein' we're civilians, we don't come under yours or Mac's or Sam Grant's orders here?'' Coop chuckled. '' And in a way, you could say we're not here officially, at all, that is.''

'' I don't have time to argue this with you, Cooper!'' Jemmy scowled. '' Slim and Teo, Chris and Tierney are already headed for the lodge right now, unless they've run into some kind of trouble. Adam, Rand and Mac are headed for the bunkhouse we saw behind the mansion, to see if our fellows aren't waiting there for them.

And we've still got the Colonel's body here to deal with, before we reconnect with either or both of those two parties! What's that?'' Jemmy demanded, looking around and noting that both his companion were doing the same thing now. Carefully softened, the sound of several more pairs of footsteps still reached the trio now. ''We're not expecting Sheriff Corey to come up here after all, are we?''

''Not that I heard tell of, Jem.'' Ori answered, shaking his head. '' But why would Company men be coming up the hill, now? Didn't Giles say they were all restricted to the compound, after someone got into trouble with the local 'soiled-doves' society?''

''Well, whoever that is coming boys, and whatever we're gonna do now, we'd best do it on th' double-quick!'' Coop suggested, pointing to the right side of the wall behind them. ''Cause here they come!''

''Well, actually, we're over here, Coop.'' Duke Shannon laughed quietly, striding up to join the trio, from the left, with Bill Hawks at his side. '' We thought you fellows could use some real help around here, since you still need to get to your cousin.''

'' Coop just can't seem to get anything done without us.'' Bill added, grinning and winking at the chief scout. '' Unless it's getting himself in trouble, of course.''

'' I'm afraid they're right about that, Coop.'' Chris Hale agreed, walking up behind his ramrod and younger scout. '' So, when Mrs. Cooper was kind enough to let us know where we could find the trouble Coop is in, this time; naturally we came on over.''

'' Oh, naturally!'' Coop exclaimed, just barely keeping his voice down. '' Well, I won't say I'm not glad t' see you… Chris. Not so sure about these two troublemakers. But I'm left with some nagging questions now, seeing the three of you back here in Wyoming.''

'' Ask away, buddy.'' Duke said, trying hard to scowl at his friend and failing.

'' Well, with all of you fellows here, instead of being somewhere between Fort Hall and Sacramento by this time, who th' devil's mindin' th' Train, for peet's sake?''

'' If you're both here, where's Chris? And if he's back here in Wyoming with you two, who th' devil's mindin' the Train, for peets sake?''

'' As it happens I can answer that, Coop.'' Chris said, grinning. '' Katie's taken over for me, as she only had a contract this year to get her supplies as far as Fort Hall.''

'' Kate Crawley's taken over as Wagonmaster?'' Coop echoed. '' And so who's her ramrod, and who in blue blazes' has chief scout?''

'' Barnaby.'' Bill answered, chuckling. '' He's ramrod now, Coop, and doin' a fine job at it.''

'' Wait! Just wait a danged minute! Barney's ramrod, Kate's runnin' the outfit, and who does that… Ah, G-d!'' Coop almost yelped. '' No, no way! That only leaves Charlie Wooster to scout for them? Charlie!''

'' Charlie.'' Duke nodded. ''And he'll be real glad to hear you think he can't handle the job, Coop. He claimed he's been doing that sort of job since you and I were still in short pants, buddy.''

Coop rolled his eyes and started to laugh but then saw Chris looking somberly down at the late Colonel Howell. '' That's… He was Solomon Howell, Chris.'' the scout told his friend and mentor. '' He's the fellow I … ran into, back in Nebraska. And … I'm not th' one who killed him. But I could've been. I truly could've done it… G-d knows, he needed killing… ''

'' But you didn't kill him. And I'm pretty sure you didn't really want to get down to his level, did you, Coop?'' Hale asked feeling very proud of his godson, once more.

'' Oh, I wanted to, Chris. I wanted to, very, very much. But I didn't. And it's likely I wasn't going to.'' Coop nodded. '' And you … you already know that. In fact, likely you knew that, before I did. I'll tell you, this bein' known so danged well, it's still takin' some getting used to… But thanks, Chris. Thanks a lot.''

'' What for? I didn't stop you, Coop. You did.'' Chris told him.

'' Yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks.'' Coop answered, warmed as always by the Wagonmaster's unspoken confidence and wordless praise for him. '' Y' know, I

really am glad to see … all three of you, fellows. But… Charlie's scouting?''

'' Well, Barney's doing an awful lof of doubling-up, truth be told.'' Bill answered. '' Charles doesn't have quite the same stamina as a sixteen year old, these days. But what Duke said, that's not just a claim Wooster makes, either. He actually scouted for a lot of the trains going to the Oregon and Washington Territories, back in the day. Maybe that will tell you why he gets so … _iricible, _as Charlie puts it 'with you young upstarts and _unentities'._ ''

'' Guess it could, at that.'' Coop chuckled.

'' Gentlemen, we're surprised and we're glad to have your help.'' Jemmy told them. '' I promise you, you're more than welcome. Especially since I know you'll keep my older east Texas cousin out of trouble. Now, suppose we go find out more precisely where my younger east Texas cousin is right now, and get this party started.

Ori, that means you get to take Colonel Howell's body back to his friends in the mansion, over there. And that means you've gone back to being Rafe Tierney, again, for now. As far as Giles has been able to tell us, they've been too busy up here, just lately to take the roll. So they don't know you've been AWOL a bit. It may be you'll find Dr. Colville, my old teacher there. And If so, he can deal with all the medical side of this. you do nothing more than give a quick report on what you found down by the wall here. And keep it simple… "

"I'll stick to the truth of the matter, as close as I can, Jem." Ori agreed, nodding and bending his long legs, as he reached to lift Howell's corpse. " I was coming down to get my haversack I left at my watch post. And I found the Colonel, gasping out his last breath, after tangling with Reid, and … my entirely crazed cousin, Timmy, it seems. Zeke and Addy were already down here. And they're on their way to knock heads with ol Moray, now. Figure there's likely to be some fire-fights breakin' out just anytime."

"Good man." Jem answered. " Go to it, and, Ori…"

'Be careful." Ori finished with a grin as wide as the hills of Tara. "That I will, Jem, that I surely will."


	27. Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX Pascale's suite, mansion at Widow's Retreat,

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s.

_''_Would taking your own life end your twins'? Would taking your own twin's life take yours, as well? Can one twin survive the death of the other? Aren't souls linked even more strongly than flesh and blood? Would your death be my own, my Dearest Twin?

If so, if we decide that must be the truth of our twinned selves, our twinned lives, please, please don't ever, ever die! Or if you mean to die, please let us take that leap, that last step, together!'' Morrissey recalled them asking each other, decades ago in a youthful, imaginatively morbid conversation.

''Or if you mean to die, please let us take that leap, that last step, together!_'' _Pascale now echoed his thoughts, his memory exactly, and then went on.

''I don't want your death, My Dearest Twin. I may have said the opposite. I may have felt it… I inherited Poppa's temper just as much as you did, surely. But if, for some unforeseen reason you wished to take that last step, I think, as I seem to miss times and places that can never be again, so very painfully these days, I'd not flinch an instant from taking it with you. But to reiterate, Twin, no, I don't wish you dead. Does that satisfy you?''

''I don't care if it satisfies Lee Henry, one little bit!" Gabriel Dureau Colville, a wiry, white haired, bright blue eyed Georgian, The Widow's physician of many years interrupted her now, stepping between the siblings to take Pascale's pulse once more. " All this morbid, maudlin talking of dying _and suicide_ does you no good, Eugenie Isabelle, just no good at all. And it satisfies me not one whit!"

"Nor do I much care for the despairing theme of our recent conversations, my dear." Noach Thierry Deveraux, Addison's uncle, a heavy set, dark eyed, balding New Orleans native and their family minister strongly agreed, sitting down beside Morrissey again. " Lee Henry, you shouldn't have given our Eugenie those papers to read. They shocked her quite terribly, I fear."

"'Only insofar as I already found the absolute and irrevocable proof of my own darkest folly in them, Thierry." The Widow murmured, shaking her head, as Colville released her hand once more. " Only insofar as I let myself believe I could turn, I could halt the evil I myself unleashed in these past six years easily or gently, without paying a price. But there is a price to be paid, my dear old friend. And it is heavy, indeed. But it is one I can no longer shirk, much less allot elsewhere."

"Well, you don't get to decide that sort of thing for yourself, either, Eugenie!" Gabriel Colville insisted, fuming at the Widow, now. "You're not th' Almighty, for Heaven's sake! And you're not in the best of health, either. And you dang well know that's nothing but true. Your heart…'

"My heart has not been in the best of health since first Napier… and then Neddy… were lost to me… were lost to us all. A good part of my heart… of all our hearts, surely was lost with those two … very dear ones, wouldn't you agree?" Pascale asked.

" 'genie!" Morrissey exclaimed, turning from smiling at their old doctor and minister to study his twin's face intently, again. "Did I hear you right? Since

I came here from Cheyenne, I haven't heard you conversing with either Napier, or our brother Neddy at any point Have you finally laid your ghosts? Have you released those two loving spirits to Glory, at long last, Eugenie?''

Morrissey asked her, far more quietly now, catching her chin with his fingertips, as she'd not allowed him to do in a very long time indeed. Her silvery grey eyes, so much like his own came back up to meet his gaze now and The Widow at first dismayed him by shaking her well coiffed head.

'' Pascale gave a slight shrug and a tremulous smile to her brother. " I … suppose I did, Lee Henry. I … suppose I finally had to… I always called them both my angels, after all. Shouldn't they be allowed to … take on that part? I still see them, wherever I look and hear them wherever I turn, Lee Henry.'' She answered, and then swallowed as if what came next was catching in her throat. And when she went on, she amazed her twin.

'' But … my own heart's dearest love, my Napier, … died in Richmond… years ago. He died in Richmond, while still fighting for our Glorious, Lost Nation and Her Eternal Honor. He had seen too much of such places to allow himself the ignominy of being captured, much less imprisoned. Napier wrote

me, some weeks before that …that awful April… saying he would take a gentleman's honor, a gentleman's privilege… Death before dishonor, always… And I revere him for it!'' Pascale declared, clenching one hand against the other

'He loved you so terribly, Eugenie. I wish now, as I did then, Napier had seen his way clear to bide awhile and come home to you, to all of us.'' Her brother replied. ''But he made a choice many others wished to make, and didn't\. How can I dispute or judge him, knowing what I became capable… what I've in fact done? Perhaps I should have fallen on my sword, as well, before any of this could happen… And Neddy?'' Lee Henry dared ask, even more quietly.

'' I have nothing to say to you, at present about my Neddy. Except that my present young charge… '' Pascale went on and then shook her head, clearly reluctant to wholly lay her other 'ghost'. '' Has been able to talk to me of … our brother, Neddy, once or twice, since … he came here to us. He seems to have … as high esteem of … Neddy as we always did. And I found that … comforting, oddly enough. That's all I wish to say on the question, Twin. Now, I will do as you asked, Lee Henry and have another glance at Sergeant Caulder's papers, if you please." The Widow said, extending her hands for the sheets of paper Morrissey held.

"Eugenie!" Both Colville and Deveraux now protested.

"No, Gabriel, no, Thierry, I really must help my brother with these extraordinarily, vital documents and journals. I believe my Twin has encountered an impasse in his understanding of their contents. He was never nearly as quick with a cipher as I was, when we were children, together. Do you remember how often I tricked you with games like those, do you, Lee Henry?" Pascale asked, with a slightly mischievous smile on her face.

"Very well indeed, thank you, Eugenie." Morrissey nodded, and only then seemed to hear what she'd implied. ''Eugenie Isabelle!'' he exclaimed ''You recognize these as Aaron Caulder's papers? How? How could you … the originals were penned in a cipher convolute enough to tax, if not to frustrate the best cryptographers! ''

''Oh, really, did you find it as troublesome as all that, Lee Henry?'' Eugenie Pascale asked her brother. ''I'm quite surprised to hear you say as much. The brief glance I had the occasion to take at the late Sergeant's writings some few weeks ago didn't leave me with that impression, quite honestly. I was in rather a rush just then, between my constant caring for Neddy's young friend, and the fascinating display you and Heydon Palmerston have been putting on as regards the tribunal, here.

But what I saw seemed hardly more than a reversed reverse numbers for letters and back again sort of constantly used that sort of cipher in my boarding school days, and with great success. So I was able to glean not a little information of rather shocking significance. That is, I was able to discern matters of significance especially to our Heydon Palmerston, I would tend to think, were he to find and read these documents, that is. Was there truly more to the problem or the content of these papers than that?''

''No, Eugenie, no.'' Morrissey answered, well aware he was staring. ''But am I to understand from what you've said that you haven't allowed 'our Heydon Palmerston' to find or to read Caulder's papers?''

''Well, no, of course not, brother. The man has shown himself quite extraordinarily vicious, if not outright violent, on the subject of his prior bad deeds during the Conflict, don't you think?. And honestly, I am not entirely certain why he should be I had not the opportunity, as I mentioned to read that much of what young Caulder wrote. That's why I've barred him from the boy's room this last fortnight and a little more. That's why I've only allowed Jaimey and Phillips to watch over the boy in my care, when I was needed here. '' Pascale explained.

''Why? Whatever's wrong with that, Lee Henry?'' She asked, when her brother groaned and shook his head.

"Sister, those boys are no friends… " Morrissey started to tell her, when

the main doors to Pascale's suite of rooms banged wide open and Adam Traherne, along with Rafe Tierney, and a good third of the Company appeared in the hallway.

''Gentlemen, please!'' The Widow protested, glaring at them. ''I gave my word my brother could have at least one uninterrupted hour's private conversation with me. Why are you breaking in, indeed, why are nearly you breaking down my doors to interrupt us?''

"We do beg your pardon, Ma'am." Traherne said, holding the group at the doorway for now. "We surely do, and yours, as well, Lee Henry. And I shouldn't have allowed the boys to damage these doors. But they're kinda scared truth be told. We've got a mortal lot of trouble already started tonight, on the compound. And it seems only likely there'll be more up here, directly. And there's not much good news, either in what we've come over to say, I'm afraid."

"Well, I've always preferred to hear bad news first and get it over." Pascale said, so calmly it astonished everyone there but her twin. "Please, do come in, General Traherne. Gentlemen, please."

"Thank you, ma'am. It was young Rafael here behind me who reported the worst of our news to me, as he was ordered to do, you being closeted with Lee Henry this evening. Rafe, I expect you'd best tell The Widow and her brother what you saw, what you heard and … what you found, just exactly as you told me, yourself. " Traherne said, turning to the tall, black haired young man he knew as Rafael Tierney, Tim's cousin from Savannah.

"Wait, wait a moment." Morrissey insisted. holding up one hand. "Rafael, I don't think I've seen you here on the compound for some weeks, now. Where have you been, until tonight, if I may ask?"

"Yes, sir, of course, of course you may, sir." Ori Hoyne, back in his role as Rafe Tierney nodded.

" Solomon, that is, mean to say Colonel Howell sent some weeks back to find the Yankee lawmen we knew started in chasin' our tails, back in Cairo. He thought they'd be comin' round these parts by now, if we were dumb enough to leave them any kind of a trail to follow, that is. So, I done just that, and got a job of work takin' care of those idjits horses. That was nigh onto a month back by now.

Well, it took them thickheaded ol' Yankees awhile, sir, but they're here. They're down at the spur head, waitin' on some marshals to come and give 'em a hand. Then, from what I hear tell, an' I heard a lot, cause I made out I was deaf as a stone, see? Then, they're gonna come at us, mebbee from both sides of the hill, out there, sir. Gotta figure they're gonna do that sometime real soon, too, yeah.

They want us all locked up, or hanged, I gotta figure. I'm real sorry t'

talk that way in front of ya, Ma'am. But it's th' G-ds honest truth, those bullheaded Yankees all they ever want anymore is t' kill 'em some more of

us ol' Rebels!"

Now, Ori paused and shifted his taut frame from one leg to the other, putting all his extra energy into looking less comfortable by the minute. Which he certainly was. The Irish immigrant would have been even less comfortable, in fact, if he hadn't taken note of Adam, Rand, Mac, Chris, Slim and 'Tierney, looking in the far window right at him. As agreed on before any of the team left the spur head, Ori merely shrugged and cleared his throat, to indicate he was in place as Rafe and they could get on with their own part of the plan.

"That's not all you had to tell us, is it, Mr. Tierney?" Pascale demanded. "And I appreciate your discretion. But, under the circumstances, I'd far rather know all the worst. If you please, do continue your report for us, now."

"Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. I will. That's why I came on over here, anyway. See, I come back to the compound last night. An' I dint see th' Colonel. An' he said I wasn't t' seek him out, see, he'd come t' take my report? He said I wasn't t' make any big deal about what I might find out from them Yankees.

He… th' Colonel, ma'am, he dint want th' boys t' start a commotion, 'less them dumb Yankees was sendin' their 7th Cavalry in here t' get us, see?

So, I waited, an' bein' new back, I pulled second watch t'night, just like I figuredI would. An' I kinda figured th' Colonel would come by, t' hear from me what them Yankees are up to. But he dint come. The Colonel, ma'am. He never came by my post. An'… turns out, that's cause he … He purely couldn't."

"Solomon couldn't make his usual rounds of the watch?" Morrissey echoed, chuckling and amazed. " All right, Rafe, now you've surely lost me. Go on, please. Why would that be? Did my old friend finally decide to unwind and get falling down drunk?"

"No, sir." Ori shook his head, actually sorry to tell the former Commander what he had to tell him now. " The Colonel got into a ruckus, sir, down by the wall, with ol' Brady Reid and … I'm danged shamed t' say, my cousin Tim. I came in on the tail end of all that, sir, just at the end, when they were nearly done.

ol' Zekiel, an' 'berto, they come in on it sooner than me, so did a whole haggle of these boys, here behind me, Thad an Rhys an some of th' younger boys that kept with th' Colonel, they saw what happened. Some of the kids who keep to Moray … they saw it, too. But what I saw,I hate like blue blazes t' tell ya… Seems like ol' Brady an' Tim, went down there t' take th' Colonel down. Seems like they got all stirred up an' prett near truly crazed, sir. They were both yowlin' all about th' Colonel puttin' us all in a mortal lot of trouble.

Zeke and Addy were already down here. And they're likely goin' to knock heads with ol Moray, now. Figure there's likely to be some fire-fights breakin' out, just anytime, now. An' just when it looked like ol Sol… like th' Colonel had shut them on down, instead, Brady got him a huntin' knife and took after … th' Colonel. I'm not sure where he got that knife from, or from who. I got t' the melee about that time, though, cause I was just then supposed give over watch… Well, th' Colonel, he caught Brady good, an' nobody figured anybody but Brady was done for by then. But… "

"But what happened?" Both twins demanded.

"Brady stabbed him. Brady did for th' Colonel, whilst they were strugglin' down there. An' th' Colonel, he dint let on, see? He sent most of th' t' let th' Gen'rl here know what went on. He ordered Tim locked up, an' some of Moray's mob, too. An' he … sent us all off to get done one thing or another. So we did.

An' … then' I recollected I left my haversack down at my watch post. So I

got it, an' come back, right by where th' ruckus happened…. Solomon… Th' Colonel, was th' only one still there… Only… only … 'm real sorry t' tell ya, he… he was gone. ol Brady must've caught him bad, mebbee on his lung, mebbee… Th' Colonel, he's died, Sir. An' I … carried him… back on up here… Dint know what else t' do, really"

Lee Henry Morrissey turned to his sister, for something to do while he tried and failed to process what 'Rafe' was saying. "You, you brought… Sol, here?" he finally managed to ask, turning back to the young man.

" Yes, Sir. Me' an' some of these boys, we laid him out in that out buildin' we took t' be th' old chapel, cross th' way, in th' courtyard. "

"Lee Henry, Eugenie, if you'll excuse me, I'll see to what there is left to do for Solomon, now." Thierry Deveraux told them. " My condolences on the loss of your old friend, Lee Henry."

Morrissey glanced just once at his twin, and once at the Reverend feeling

terribly saddened, sickened and just slightly vindicated. He'd been appallingly

right about Moray, and his ambition. He'd just had no idea how swiftly or brutally, the Charleston native would make his move against them all.

"Well, thank you for doing our old friend Solomon that service, Mr. Tierney." Pascale said, nodding at the tall young man, and then looking sadly at her brother. " And thank you, Thierry. I am very sorry, indeed to hear of his passing, Twin."

'As am I." Morrissey answered her, numbly. Then, turning to the anxious men and boys still in the doorway, their former Commander reluctantly, and he fully expected, only briefly, took back that role.

''All right. That's one batch of trouble. ''You boys get settled around the doorways and windows in and right around here. I want my sister absolutely safeguarded throughout whatever else this present difficulty turns out to be. D' you hear?''

''Yes, suh.'' the 'boys' chorused, and obeyed him on the double quick, partly their reinstated Commander thought, out of long habit. And oddly for once, behind these youngsters, a much subdued trio, made up of Adamson, Geronne and Deveraux strode in, and right up to the siblings. For another moment, Morrissey almost thought they'd salute, and shook his head, to indicate he didn't want or need that, now. Then he noted a ragged neckband tied around Adamson's right arm, and one much like it on Deveraux's left. Geronne in turn seemed to be just barely favoring his right leg.

"Have you gentlemen possibly brought us some good news?" Lee Henry asked. "I certainly hope these injuries of yours do not indicate there's been … one of those firefights Rafael predicted, as yet?"

"Nope. Not exactly, Lee Henry. But I guess you could count it good… " Geronne answered with a wolfish grin. "We traded some lead with some of ol' Moray's mob, up towards th' lodge there, but nothin' serious. Zekiel an' Addy they went an' got 'em one little scratch each. But I only got a bit banged up when ol' Timmy took it in his head t' try cuttin' loose. Told th' boy he shouldn't outa do that, we all told him that. Rafael, you might not be too happy with me onct I tell ya… But ol Tim, he went an got himself just as dead as th' Colonel an' Brady have done."

" Roberto, I thought Rafael's unfortunate cousin was put under guard!" Lee Henry exclaimed, sadly shocked, but sadly not as much as he expected, at this bloody dissolution of the Company all around him. "What in the very devil could have happened? How could he 'cut loose'?"

" Lee Henry, calm down there. That weren't 'berto's doin' a bit! " Addy Deveraux insisted, now taking his turn in the discussion. "Ol' Tim he played possum, real good on th' boys that we set t' guard him. Gotta figure they never seen a fella play that kinda game b'fore. Timmy, he was just as crazed as ol' Brady, it seems like t' me.

Cause he was gonna get outa that lock up an' head back on up t' th' lodge, ifn' it killed him. Only… turns out, it did just that for th' danged fool, anyway! Timmy, he stole a Colt revolver off of young Joey Davidson that was one of his guards an' clobbered the kid but good, soon as Joey went inside his cell! We think th' boy will be all right though as he come around pretty quick."

"And what happened after that?" Morrissey asked, almost afraid to hear what came next.

" I caught th' boy right up, Lee Henry." Geronne answered next. " ol Timmy, he was so danged crazed, he thought we were only gonna put three youngsters on guard there! But we done told him, Lee Henry! Onct Brady was dead, we told Timmy he'd go pretty much that same way, should he try anything funny. Did he listen? Nope, no sirree! An' what good news there is in a way, come from ol Tim… not that he meant it that way, surely.

He run outa th' cellar below this here ol' house, Timmy did, only t' find me waitin' on him. An' that's when th' boy just plain went off his head! He was screamin' an' shriekin' like a banshee! He was sayin' prett much th' same kinda … nonsense as Brady… He was talkin' trash, that is, bout th' Colonel, an' I warn't ever gonna t' take that! An' then he saw I meant to stop him, an' th' boy lit out… tryin' t' run fer th' lodge…" Geronne shrugged.

"An' I plugged him, but good. An' that's when he finally comes t' talkin' sense… bein' done fer by that time, ya see? Ol' Timmy, he came right out an' he told me, an' Addy, an' Zekiel, who'd come by t' see what Th fuss was… ol' Moray, surely DID set him an' Brady up t' take out th' Colonel, th' first chance they got!

An' after they done that, he wanted them goin' after as many of Sol's boys as they could do for as fast as they ever could! An' I swear, uh, sorry, ma'am… I surely b'lieve, if Timmy hadn't said that I would've just figured the two of 'em found some loco weed somewhere around here, where there ain't any! But th' boy was dyin' then, and he knew it, so I have to figure he spoke truth.''

"All of you then heard this confession?" Pascale asked, looking from one glum face before her to the next.

"Yes, ma'am." The trio answered.

"Well, that is terrible, just terrible isn't it. Addison, I think we'd best have Gabriel see to your wound and to yours, Ezekiel. Doctor dear, if you would please stop fussing about me and take care of someone in genuine need." Pascale said, shaking her head at the old Georgian.

"Eugenie, dear, I've been fussing about you for a great deal longer than you'd care for these boys here to know!" Colville answered, frowning, and then gestured to the pair of old soldiers. "But as it happens to be part of the oath I took even farther back in the dim past then that, I will certainly see to these two soldiers! Lee Henry, I'm also quite sorry to hear about Solomon. Gentlemen, if you will kindly, lend me your arms."

Morrissey found he couldn't quite get his head around the idea that his former Second was dead, murdered. And that this killing took place while he sat talking calmly to Eugenie, also boggled him. It seemed to bewilder Eugenie as well. Perhaps she really hadn't understood Moray's true capacity for violence to reach his ends.

Still watching this part of the Company, _the former Company, _he reminded himself._ This day's brutal acts surely murdered that entity, and good riddance to it!_

Now, out of long engrained habit, Morrissey found himself both noting and counting the men and boys who were still filing into the Widow's suite of rooms. They all seemed nearly as shocked and angry as he felt himself. They all seemed just as confused by this turn of events. Lee Henry was surprised again, when he noted how many of what had been called "Moray's mob' for over a year's time now, were here with him and Sol's cohort, now.

Nolan Deveraux, Pauly Gordon, and Lee Kuenle, D'arcy Traherne, Rhys Howlys, Christophe and Andre Boudin, old 'Aury' West, both Stuarts and Adam North were the chief surprises in that regard. All of them had left brothers, sons or cousins behind tonight to come here, just as they had done, years ago, in the Conflict. All of them were in danger of losing, even killing or being killed by their own blood kin, as then, too.

And Lee Henry was cheered to see that Moray had also failed in his efforts to win over all of the younger contingent. Darry Ashton, both Denholms, Davy Torrance and Joey Davidson were already here, and following them, as if at a close order drill, came Rand Alexander, Miller Nash, Mickey Stewart, Kiery Tanner, Matty Hearkins, his own young cousins Alain Morrison and Corry Munroe, as well as Chris Phillipsen and his half brother, Tierney… yes, Tierney Robertson was that last youth's name.

"And we have most of the old guard still with us, Twin." Pascale said now, as if, Lee Henry thought, she was once again reading his mind. "There's Alec and Jonathan Morgan, our dear Joshua Whelan, Brody and Camp Hamilton, Giles Boudin, Jesse Howlys, Tam McGregor, Thaddeus, Robbie, Thierry and Gabriel, our dear General Traherne, young Rafael, Addison, Ezekiel and Roberto, and both of dear old General North's sons, as well!"

''Don't stop countin' yet, Daddy! We got us some more boys come t' join in just th' nick o time, I figure!'' a beloved, familiar voice called out. And now Lee Henry was both relieved and angered to see Neddy rushing into the room behind the others, followed himself by Sean, Cleary, Donny and Danny Hoynes and Devlin Jackson, all of them grinning like triumphantly returning heroes.

'' Lee Edward, have you now broken your solemn word to me after barely three months time has passed?'' Morrissey demanded, trying his best to sound and look sternly forbidding.

'' Figure I have done just that, in one way, Daddy.'' the boy agreed. ''But I purely had t', sir, if I was t' keep t'other, older solemn promise I made t' momma… b'fore she passed.''

''And what exactly did you promise your late mother, Lee Edward?'' Pascale asked. ''By the way, having your father's report a short time ago, I must be frank and tell you I am happy to see you alive and well, young man. And I hope you will forgive and understand my untoward anger towards you… as something I most profoundly regret expressing, ever.''

''Uh… umm… yeah.. yes, surely… Figure y' must've been real bad wrought up, just then… Missus 'Genie, ma'am… '' Neddy answered, frankly staring at the Widow. '' An' what I promised momma… was only thet I'd look after m' Daddy for her, as she wished t' but couldn't… not no more. Figure I should've told y' about makin' her thet promise, Daddy… ''

''As it clearly would be abrogated by the one you made me in Cheyenne, that day…'' Morrissey nodded, frowning. ''Loury… your dearest momma stole a march on me, I see, as she did so often. She was quite good for my native egotism in just that way… You'll remember how bright our Lourinda was, Eugenie.''

''Oh vividly, Lee Henry.'' Pascale answered, offering him a sympathetic smile.

''Lee Henry, '' Dev Jackson said, stepping forward to offer his hand to the Widow and then to shake hands with the reinstated Commander

. '' 'berto told us how both the Colonel got murdered, and we would have come back to help out even if that weren't so. But since the boys and I can't thank Solomon now for finding and making good use of Sgt Caulder's papers, I guess we'd best be thanking you, sir, for bargaining for our very lives, when we were headed this way from Chey. And we do, we thank you very sincerely. Also, we've all of us been sober as a lot of judges ever since that reprieve came through. Thought you'd like to know that, too, Lee Henry.''

''I do indeed. Thank you, Devlin. Boys… find yourselves a good lookout… I don't know how long we have before our master prosecutor makes another move against us.'' Morrissey said and sat down to count the odds again, adding this last, unexpected sextet to the total. With himself and Adamson that gave them thirty six and left Palmerston an even twenty five armed men, if the Charleston native allowed Jaimey and Phillips, who'd long hated Solomon Howell, to carry arms. ''We've got nearly a third more, on our side, plus one.'' The former cavalry officer muttered.

'' Plus two. You seem to be forgetting I'm a rather good shot, myself, Brother-mine.'' The Widow said, stepping in front of him. ''But I know you've not forgotten I used to best you at every hunt, now have you? Would taking your own life end your twins'? Would taking your own twin's life take yours, as well? Can one twin survive the death of the other? Aren't souls born in the same instant linked even more strongly than flesh and blood? Would your death be my own, my Dearest Twin?'' Pascale once more recited.

''If so, if we decide that must be the truth of our twinned selves, our twinned lives, please, please don't ever, ever die! Or if you mean to die, please let us take that leap, that last step, together!'' Lee Henry answered, from their long ago talk. 'I hope it doesn't come to that, not when we've just barely reconciled.''

''Oh, oh, my Word!'' Pascale suddenly exclaimed and started rushing towards the doorway 'the boys' had all but broken in, a few moments before. 'berto easily stopped her, putting one strong hand gently on each of her shoulders.

''Missus Pascale, ma'am, that wouldn't be such a fine idea, you runnin' outa here, just now. Some of those thick headed boys still holdin' out with Palmerston, they just might try somethin' they shouldn't oughta.''

''He's right, Eugenie. We must keep to this part of the house, now, until the matter's concluded, or an armistice of some kind can be reached.'' Morrissey told her. ''Why were you … Where were you thinking of going?''

''Lee Henry, I told you, the boy who's been in my charge, in my care, is with Jaimey and Phillips! '' The Widow exclaimed. ''And they never have had any particular fondness for the Colonel. It's been a matter of mutual disaffection between them, always You know that! So they would … if the question arose, take Heydon Palmerston's side in any issue, any issue at all! And that would put the boy I've been caring for all these weeks … ''

''In Heydon Palmerston's control.'' Morrissey frowned. ''And no doubt our erstwhile friend and ally from Charleston doesn't appreciate the care you've shown that 'boy'. No, I have no doubt whatever that Palmerston would greatly resent anything of the kind, from a woman he's been 'paying court to'! ''

'' But a diversion of some sort would prove most helpful at this point, would it not, Lee Henry?'' Pascale asked, looking him intently in the eye, again.

''Not precisely at this point, Eugenie. No, not yet. But it may prove quite beneficial to our cause, in a little while. Please do hold off on that suggestion until I let you know when the time is best.'' Morrissey told her.

'' I will do my best, of course, to follow your wishes, as always.'' the widow Pascale nodded.

''Eugenie Isabelle, were you not listening…. No, apparently you weren't listening the whole while we were toting up the number of combatants, for lack of a better word we have as opposed to the number still on Moray's side of the present issue!'' Morrissey answered, sighing.

'' He has fewer, yes, but of that number, whether or not he's refused to arm them, Heydon Palmerston has both Phillips and Jaimey under orders. They loath… they loathed Solomon. And I wasn't always of a mind to blame them for that. My old colonel could be harsh, to say the least as regards… persons of color. And so, if those two 'boys' are still among the living, they are very likely to be in Moray's service now, not yours.''

''Oh, what perfidy! Those boys were Napier's wedding present from his _tres Cher_ _maman_! I cannot remain here, no matter how fervently you may wish it, Lee Henry!'' Pascale announced, almost jumping to her feet.

'' I promised the boy I would see him entirely recuperated, and send him home again! Twin, I gave my solemn word! I promised Neddy, too! … Well, I prayed that Neddy would hear and accept my efforts on behalf of his young friend. Lee Henry, I must go to the boy! Do you hear me, brother I must go at once!''

'' Eugenie, you must not!'' Lee Henry exclaimed. '' The monster we have nursed within our family circle, is clearly capable of anything at this point! No, I'll take advantage of a shift in the prevailing winds that may take Moray as much by surprise as it did me, some few minutes past. I'll send Micheal Liam up to the lodge to reconnoiter for our side, under the guise of reporting on our strength and position to Moray and his sadly diminished crew.

He'll be able to enquire after young Jaimey and Randall, too, and that will only make it all the more feasible he should act as our off the record intermediaries, now. Once we have all three Stewart brothers, as I'm sure Mickey can arrange it, and their report; then and only then will we complete our strategy for the remainder of this, G-d willing, last campaign. Please, bear with me, Twin, at least until that's done."

'' Just as you say, Lee Henry, of course.'' Pascale agreed, but did not look her brother in the eye, this time.

''Mickey, over here. I have a job of work or … two or three for you.'' Morrissey called out, waving tall, muscular Mickey Stewart over.

''Always ready for a decent job of work, or a decent fight, Lee Henry.'' Mickey chuckled. '' Missus Pascale, ma'am, whatever I can do, you just ask, and then consider it done for you, ma'am.''

''Thank you kindly, Micheal Liam.'' Pascale nodded, barely glancing up from the papers she was now reading intently. '' That's much appreciated. Lee Henry will give you more complete … directives in a moment. But mainly, our concern must now be for the safety of the young man we took in charge, nearly three months past. I've already pledged myself to ensure his good recovery.

Now, with these calamitous events, he may be in no small jeopardy. His current status is what I'm most desirous to know, just now. Lee Henry, will you give the rest of the particulars as needed, please?''

''I will.'' Lee Henry answered, and gestured for Mickey to sit with him and Adamson while they discussed what the larger element of the defunct Company on this side of the compound needed to know about the smaller band, up in the lodge.


	28. Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN The Widow's Retreat, outside Pine Bluffs,

Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

"Phillips, Jaimey." Eugenie Morrissey Pascale called out softly to the tall mulattoes, as she walked into the highest, widest section of the lodge attic.

" Our mutual friend, Heydon Palmerston is rather occupied, at the moment. So I've come to care for our young charge, once more. And I will have your faithful help in doing so, as always. Will I not, my boys?"

[ Missus 'genie,] Phillips signed, with a worried glance at his brother. [ We have always been faithful to you, to the General, and to Mister Lee Henry. It was the late Colonel Howell whom we refused to take any orders from, that is all.]

[ The Colonel was very clear in his attitude towards darkies, Missus 'genie.]

Jaimey added in his turn as the Widow Pascale turned towards him. [ And it's

wrong to speak ill… of the dead. But to be blunt, The Colonel still didn't think we were even human, ma'am.]

" Well, that may be true. However, you could have continued to serve me faithfully, without taking Heydon's part in all these troubles and internecine conflicts. If there is time, later, the three of us can then discuss whether or not you've kept faith with me and my brothers. I care little for that, just at present, to speak just as bluntly. But for now, you will obey me, I know, because I have learned precisely how you were persuaded to do otherwise.

Never mind that now. We have a great deal of work to do. And much to undo as well, in the likely fleeting time we have remaining to us! And first of all, you must help me to remove the boy from the wretched, unwholesome corner he's apparently been left in, lately. And I must tell you, boys, you were as utterly decieved as I was, myself. The man in whom you've put your trust most recently deserves none of it. And in fact, I have been given proof that he is not only a dastard and a liar, but a murderer, himself. You will both be more concerned with the lies he's told you. I believe he's

promised to make you both quite wealthy."

[ Yes, ma'am. So he did.] Jaimey answered, signing.

[ Yes, Missus genie. He said he was coming into a lot of money. He said he was drawing up papers for J an' me to get part of it, all legal, too.] Phillips agreed.

[ Well, boys, that money was to come from my inheritance. It was to be at

his disposal, only either on my acquiescense or on my demise, whichever

he could arrange for soonest. I daresay at some earlier time, Heydon Palmerston actually believed I would give him my hand in marriage! I daresay he's gone far past that point now, and only thinks to somehow 'legally' steal my remaining fortune!

However, I have already drawn up, with Lee Henry's invaluable assistance, documents by which you each shall have a substantial …gift in exchange

for the help you give me now. And it will exceed what you were falsely promised. The papers also exonerate you from the Company's endeavors. My word on that. ] Pascale signed, as she didn't wish any of Moray's cohorts to hear her accusations against him, yet.

"Now, you both know the pleasant, sunny corner of the attic I originally thought to do some sketching and painting in when we first came here?" Pascale said aloud.

"That is where I will have you, with all due care and all due haste take the boy you will find clean linens for the old bed already in that place. But before you move the lad, you will draw a warm bath in the tub just by here, and help me to bathe him. The cleanest, most comfortable surroundings we can give the boy now will not help him a bit, if he's kept so poorly."

[ I confess, I am rather shocked you two would, after working with me at the hospitals back home in N'Olins, so disregard hygiene and antisepsis. Phillips, you will help me bathe the lad. He's lost enough weight in this illness that I shouldn't need you both for that.

Jaimey you will go to the storage room on the other side of the attic, find, and bring back soft, clean clothing for our young charge. With that done, you will go down to the lodge kitchen, and finish cooking the pot of soup I've started there. If you are questioned about that by our Heydon Palmerston, or any of his present cohort, you will tell him I am up here energetically sketching and drawing. And I might have gone without nourishment if you had not remembered the mutton soup I like so much. But do not allow him to gainsay you, and do not allow him to redirect your efforts. Do you understand me, completely? We will not be giving the lad anything further adulterated by any medications or drugs, whatever. ]

[ Yes, Missus 'genie.] Jaimey answered. [ And I'm … sorry for … your trouble.]

[ Yes, so am I. Phillips, have you understood me entirely?] Pascale signed.

[ Yes, Missus 'genie. And thank you, kindly, ma'am, for not railing at us as you might have done.] Phillips told her.

[ I simply lack the time and energy for such things any longer. There will soon be Federal officers on the compound, my boys. When you've done all I need of you, I would advise you to seek them out. Perhaps they will even have some person who can understand your signing. I've heard the method is being taught in some places, even in Yankee schools, in fact. Lee Henry has the papers I spoke of, exonerating and rewarding you for your help. Find my brother and let him know where I am, when you're done here. Now, let us get to work, shall we?]

Another, very different sort of work had begun as sunset gave way to dusk that evening. As the guards at the back gate and along the western wing of the long stonewalls watched in amazed delight, a troupe of women, dozens and scores of women began climbing the gentler slope behind 'the Widow's Retreat'. And as these women strolled, loped and climbed closer, the guard's delight grew apace.

That may have been because not a single woman in the group could possibly be mistaken for a genteel, gently bred or any semblance of society matron. Instead, it was clear from the start that these 'ladies' were what the penny dreadfuls, the social reformers, and the yellow journals of the day most often labeled 'soiled doves', 'Cyprians', 'red-headed women' or 'ladies of easy virtue'. But naturally enough not all were red-haired, not all were 'fair', and none of them were in any way, shape or form, frail or delicate creatures. Instead their number included every known shade of women's silken complexions, from rose tinted milk-paleness, to dark satin's dusky sheen.

Their tresses, whether flowing or piled high also bore every color known and

some of pure invention, from raven-wing's black to sunlit gold. And their attire was unquestionably _ala mode,_ with various and sundry creative modifications. All the latest tiny hats perched unsteadily on their heads. And all the newest taffeta bustles rustled behind them, while all the most modern, jewel toned velvet covered boots and gloves finished them off to a glowing perfection. In short, with some extraordinary differences, these ladies could have, , just stepped out of Godey's Ladies Magazine.

And the closer they came, the easier it was to tell that Godey's would never see or be seen with these 'ladies'. Their rouge was heavier than any modest woman would dream of wearing. Their necklines were vastly more revealing than any seen outside a boudoir. Their silk stockings were thinner and far more intricately patterned. And their skirts, while they kept a clinging fit just below the waist, were carefully gathered in front, thus providing a genuinely shocking view of the women's lace-stockinged lower limbs. And one thing more became clearer and clearer as these 'doves' climbed the hill : Not only were many of these ladies, older, tougher and profoundly more experienced than any of the Company men, they were angry.

The men on guard, soon found the troupe of 'ladies' wasn't making their way up the hill merely to take their exercise or receive the Company men's admiring gazes. Instead they were there, their slight, fair-haired no-nonsense leader from Cheyenne informed each and every guard she spoke to, to collect on an unpaid debt. And she had no intention of leaving the compound, or allowing her cadre of 'friends' to make any assignations until her business matter was properly settled.

''A man who gave his name as Holland Palmerston Montague, which I should have known made him a complete phony, made a… business arrangement with my friends over two months ago in Cheyenne.'' Thea announced to each respectively higher authority she met.

'' And then he welched on it. And I don't do business that way. In my line of work … well I can't let my friends, or my girls or myself for that matter be cheated and not do something about it. So, you lead me to this Holland person, who made a big deal of supposedly being a Colonel in some army or other, sometime… And when, and only when my old business is taken care of, we'll talk a new business deal for all these … lonesome boys you seem to have collected up here, and not one minute before.''

At first, when the problem was made known, no one Thea talked to would admit knowing anyone who went by the name she mentioned. But after nearly three quarters of an hour went by, and almost every man at or near the lodge was standing around, first ogling and chuckling, then frowning and sighing, one of the 'elder statesmen' Gordon Arthur West, entered the discussion.

'' Miss… was it Miss Murchison?'' he asked, as politely as if addressing a duchess.

''It's Mrs Murchison-Brightwell, actually.'' the troupe's leader told him. ''But all my friends just call me Thea. And if you'd like to be my friend, I'm sure we can work something out with such a refined gentleman as yourself. We worked something out for the supposedly refined gentleman I came here to … clarify some business matters with… Do you know this Mister Montague, sir?''

'' I know a gentleman of fine breeding who sometimes uses an assumed name something like that, when he wishes to … show a genteel discretion, ma'am.'' 'Arty' West told her. ''He's been working night and day, just lately on a truly vital matter. Perhaps that's why you haven't received any communication from him, just lately, Mrs. Brightwell.''

'' Mrs. Murchison-Brightwell.'' Thea repeated, grinning brightly at the old soldier. '' And I appreciate a genteel discretion as much as the next … person. What I don't appreciate is the failure to meet a business obligation. It makes it just that much harder for me to meet my own obligations, you see. So I really must insist on discussing this matter with the man I came to see. Where is the gentleman now, sir?''

''Ah, he is … closeted with a very important client, just at the moment, ma'am.'' West told her. '' And as his long time associate, I asked if I could act as his surrogate in the business matter. You've come all the way from Cheyenne…''

''All the way from Denver, sir. It was my business associates and friends in Cheyenne whose … talents this gentleman sought out and then refrained from giving over the agreed on compensation. However, I devoutly hope I am not an unreasonable person. Therefore, if you are now empowered to satisfy the account still owing, I will be glad to have the matter well concluded.''

''Thank you, Mrs. Murchison-Brightwell.'' West nodded, grinning back, and holding out a long, narrow piece of paper. '' I have here a bank draft for what I believe you stated was the correct amount.''

Thea glanced at the draft, then started to smile and then her wide blue eyes grew still wider. Her face grew pale, and she gasped as if unable to catch

her breath. And in the next instant, she collapsed into the arms of her companions. Only after several minutes passed while smelling salts, fans and the tiniest of incremental sips of brandy were carefully applied did the 'business woman' revive at all.

'' My dear, whatever could have shocked you so very badly?'' Thea's petite dark haired, , long time friend Constance asked her.

'' That man!'' Thea whispered as affectingly as any dramatist could have wished for. '' Connie, that man just offered me a … a bank draft… a…a … sum of … of money!''

''Money!'' the entire troupe repeated, with every sign of dismay, not to say repugnance. ''Sir, you offered our dearest Thea a sum of money?''

''Why… well… I … '' West shook his head. '' I sincerely beg your pardon, ma'am, ladies. I had thought … I had construed from what you… what I thought you … ''

'' Oh, no, my dear sir!'' Naomi, the taller, genuinely red-headed member of the triumvirate of old friends exclaimed. '' You _entirely misconstrued_, then! Clearly your associate was no more forthcoming with you than he was … with … well with our girls when he came to Cheyenne! This is not at all a matter at which one can merely throw a cache of filthy lucre! No! This is a matter for far more profound and long term consideration! My friend, my dear, dear friend, Mrs. Murchison-Brightwell couched the discussion in terms of business as a matter of using tact, of using her own deep sense of discretion, my good sir!

Perhaps we should have put the matter more bluntly! Perhaps we should have made the true nature of this case plainly known! Perhaps we should have taken this case to the yellow journalists, or to the reformers in the region or to the courts! Perhaps we should have spelled out the matter with

a deal less tact and a deal more bluntness, sir!

The wrong done our band of sisters, as we consider ourselves to be and rightly so, has nothing to do, nothing at all to do, sir, with crude financial matters! The injury done one of our sisters, we consider to be done, and profoundly so to all of us! To have come all this way, at great expense and with no small difficulty I would add, my dear sir, and find ourselves treated as some sort of discarded, discredited, cast off paid employees!

It's clearly far more than my dearest Thea could bear! And it's a great deal less, I will add, than we thought it only right we should expect on our arrival here! This will not do, sir! We will not take part in spreading salacious tales about one of our dear sisters! Nor will we allow one of our own dearest, younger sisters to be so terribly abused and then forsaken in he time of greatest need, sir! Perhaps now, we have made the matter at hand clear enough for you! Perhaps now you can comprehend the extremely private nature of our complaint against this lying, cheating, completely reprehensible dastard, this Montague or whatever his name truly is!

Little did we think, little did we guess and I suppose we should have, that women of our class would be so ill regarded by true gentlemen! We are as much human beings as any girls locked up in a sweat-shop sir! We are living, feeling creatures as much as any native peoples displaced from their tribal lands! And we are not leaving this place until something has been done about this dreadful situation!''

Naomi turned to gesture to the troupe of women, now. And each of them took the nearest open seat they could find. Finally, running out of stair steps, chaises, chairs or divans, more than a few of the ladies piled cushions on the floor as if, more than one of the older men present considered, they were replicating a Turk's _hareem._ In minutes the entry way of the lodge looked more like a tableau or diorama on stage than a passageway, and sounded more like a crowded railway station. Chaos reigned there for the rest of the evening and well into the wee hours of that night.

After several hapless attempts, even the 'old battle-crows' of the Company gave in to the facts of the matter. And chiefly those facts were that none of their younger cohort wanted any of these 'ladies' to go anywhere, unless they went along with them. None of the Company men, including the 'elder statesmen' had been 'to the well' in quite some time. And few of them, including the 'old crows' and the 'youngsters' wanted the troupe of 'doves' to leave the premises, any time soon.

Hours went by in what was in many ways a pleasant dilemma for the Company men. 'Holland Montague' who some of them knew at the start, and others began to guess was Heydon Moray sent his Seconds, Josiah and Jordan Ashford took over from former General West, as far as attempting to reach some settlement with the ladies encamped in the foyer . To no one's genuine surprise, little or no progress was made on that front.

Instead at various times, various members of the Company removed to their quarters with various of the 'ladies', a process of attrition that continued to early the next morning, in many cases. The Company men were determined not to lose their first chance in months at some measure of ease. The 'doves' were similarly adamant on staying within the compound until 'Montague' had actually met and dealt with them. And slowly they began to give way on their stance of not 'doing business' with their eager hosts. This change in

the process left most of the Company men present free to make their own business dealings with various of their charming visitors. And they did so,

to almost everyone's satisfaction

Finally, when day was just barely breaking over the Laramie range that surrounded the compound, Heydon Moray emerged at last from his 'vital consultations' and spent the next three hours and more fervently denying

every one of the 'ladies' claims against him. For once, as only he and the 'doves' themselves knew, the former prosecutor was being completely honest. He'd never been to any of their establishments, and certainly never had any 'congress' with any of their 'sisters'. Never in his life, Moray insisted until he'd nearly lost his voice, had he desired, sought after, much less paid for 'female companionship'.

"Oh, wait, Connie, Nami." Thea only now exclaimed, craning her neck to stare upwards directly into Moray's face. " That's not him. He's not the fellow who ruined our little 'sister', our dear little 'bella'. Sorry, mister."

'Yeah, too bad." Constance grinned. "Too bad you're not interested, Mister. We could have really shown you a thing or two, believe me!"

"Don't suppose you know anybody who would lie about his name and where he was stayin', after making all that trouble for little 'bella, d'ya, Mister?" Naomi demanded, laughing. "We really need to find that bloody coward, see? The poor kid had to … take a kinda long vacation, all on account of him!"

"I know no such persons!" Moray rasped. "And I have never in my entire existence … And the only Colonel I've been recently acquainted with at all, is one Solomon Howell. However, I believe you may have some small difficulty conversing with my old friend Solomon, just at present. That gentleman passed away, rather abruptly, just last evening. So you can have no further … business here. Therefore you will all leave these premises on the instant!"

'Yeah, we heard you, already. You never in your entire sorry life set foot inside a friendly establishment like ours. And we never met anybody by the name of Howell, did we ladies? And we're leaving, already! " Constance laughed, and winked as she saw Adam Gordonson, in his disguise as a lost and badly befuddled greenhorn, standing on the veranda of the hunting lodge.

"Girls, we'd best get on the move, then. There's only one train out of that dang spur head per day, it seems like! We don't wanta get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere for another night, now do we?" Thea chuckled, as she saw the Company men's faces lighting up like children promised an extra Christmas. Still laughing she turned to her girls.

"Timmy, 'Saura, Metria, Phe, T'Lisa, Miri, 'Vange, Zeva, Rianna, and yes, you too, Amalia, you're done for the morning, I can tell by lookin'! Get up and go roost out Mari, Imogen, Daphy, Dee, Katie, Raissa, Danni, Lourdes, Y'lena, Astrid, Laura, Terese, Circe, Maggie, Marisol, Sian, Gwyn and Richael. They all headed out to that pumphouse or stables or summer kitchen back of here, with their last batch of … friendly fellows. Connie, the rest of these fine, upstanding examples of busy businesswomen are all yours, dearie!"

"They are, aren't they?" Constance sighed, looking at some of the girls who'd traveled up from Denver with her. "Timi, Alys, Revy, Rhesa, Belinda, Lori, Missy, Thena, Alex, and Micki, you ladies all need to work on your drive and your work ethic, when we get home again. But for now, you need to go back into each of these downstairs rooms, and the storm cellars, and collect Merari, Hava, Zandra, Helena, Elise, Lucy, Reyna, Chelsea, Willi, Morwyn, Liesl, Leah, Eirene, Lucy, Talia, Ivrit and Ysa. So, stop looking at me like you don't speak the Queen's English, ladies. Go!

Your turn, Nami."

"Right. Now, Reyna, 'mara, Maarit, Sibyl, Bree, Brianna, Jessy, Torry, Randa, Rhea, Gabi, and you, too, Jael and Jora, Iliana and Emma," Naomi nodded, directing her attention to the 'doves' who'd come with her from Cheyenne.

"You look plenty rested up yourselves. So you go on upstairs right now, and check every room, in fact, check that big ol' attic, while you're at it. And collect Mercia, Maddie, Lael, Sandy, Litha, Rhia, Thena, Cyndy, Nora, Leah, Ellie, Mered, Ana, Alexa, Zoe, Tonia, Eleni, Zara, Jewels, and Bea. And no extras, no freebies, and no doubling up, we don't have time this morning!"

'No!" Moray, West and both Ashfords chorused, immediately gaining the fullest attention of every woman and man present.

"Umm…You just got done ordering us off the premises, Mister." Thea laughed merrily at Moray." Now you want us to stay? Don't tell me Connie convinced you to try…"

" I did. I wish you go as soon as humanly possible. And she most certainly did not!" Moray exclaimed. "However, this is private property. And you have no right to be here, much less to explore it! My men will find and extricate your … associates from the rest of this dwelling and the outbuildings here. And you may believe they will waste no time and leave not one of your … employees unfound."

" And unharmed in the least respect." Naomi added, glaring at Moray. "Right, Mister?" "I am a Southron gentleman." Moray said, enunciating as if he spoke to a dunce. " I have never allowed anyone in my cohort to lay a hand in any untoward fashion on any female. And I myself have never laid a violent hand upon any woman, of any … "

"Don't say it!" Connie scowled, just barely glancing in the direction she'd last seen Adam. The former actor was standing outside the French doors of what looked to be a downstairs study. [ Attic] Connie wordlessly signaled, and smiled again, as Adam vanished from his lookout. Then she turned her full attention back to Moray.

" In fact, while we're standing here, don't you even think it! We're not 'women of any sort', Mister High Falutin'! But, all right, all right! If your damn privacy's so important, you go ahead and send your boys up after our ladies. And you may believe there will be extra charges if we find out you're lying about what you

allow!"

Less than twenty minutes later, every 'dove' had been located and returned none the worse for wear, to the main floor of the old lodge. In fact, they soon spilled out of the foyer to more than fill the veranda. Fortunately for their new customers, not one 'lady' voiced a word of complaint. Fortunately for everyone involved, the Company men willingly paid their obligations, in hopes of future 'transactions'. Then the ladies carefully counted and pocketed their remunerations, lifted the bank draft from Arty West's inside coat pocket, and marched happily away from the compound in the direction of the spur head.


	29. Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT Attic in the lodge at Widow's Retreat, outside Pine Bluff's,

Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

He lay back, only half awake at best, against the pillows piled behind him, at the end of his cot, supporting him now. He lay, listening to _her _wonderfulvoice, letting himself keep on floating in the warm, consoling, comforting sound. He gingerly touched the cot and found it carried him and a mattress! He thought this might even be the much softer, much cleaner bed he'd lain on before, _whenever _before was.

No, before… that was when he'd been hurled into a grave-sized cell, when he'd been bound up like a bird for roasting, when he'd been left lying helpless on a gleaming wooden floor, when he'd been confined to a palette as rough, lumpy and foul as a half empty coal sack. Not only that, without knowing how, he was wearing a clean, decently long soft cotton nightshirt, over a clean, warm set of longjohns!

And that floating feeling, it suddenly seemed, came from a half formed memory of someone gently but firmly giving him a bath! He didn't know when was the last time that happened, and didn't know who'd done it.

His memory didn't seem to have those details, which failure suddenly made him blush from his neck to the roots of his hair! Someone had changed everything around him, including the taste of warm, good soup, without a trace of drugs, lingering in his mouth that he couldn't remember swallowing a bit! And he'd slept through it!

These days he wasn't sure where he'd woken up, where he or either cot he seemed to spend his life on might be. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, wherever _there _was. But he'd been a good half way out of his head with fever, sick and sore in every inch and joint and muscle. And most of the time, despite the icy-voiced, icy-eyed prosecutor's angry insistence, the sick man was too confused and shaken to be sure who he was now, or who he'd been, however, whenever, wherever he'd been… before.

He wasn't just sick. That much he knew. He was weary past exhaustion and more often than not profoundly shocked by his own weakness now. He sometimes feared he might be dying, might be abandoned here, empty-headed, empty hearted, and crazed with only nightmares of terror, of pain and remorse. He sometimes heartily wished this whole whopper-jawed, bollixed up time would just get over. But what might come next, since that had so often proved worse, held him back fiercely from asking for an end to it all.

As for what might be real or unreal all around him, that was yet another unsettled mystery. It seemed he was wrapped in gossamer, more than he was in cotton batting, just lately. It seemed he could barely see above or around him through that blurry fiber. But it didn't merely hide the world he thought he almost saw. It held him down and held him back, as if the hazy stuff weighted each of his weary limbs with lead, now.

He couldn't keep hold of anything, and nothing seemed able to hold him, not

caring, not ease, not terror or even pain. Nothing was fixed, nothing was certain anywhere around him. Nothing and no one seemed entirely real. He thought he might remember the chilling voice, and the warm one. He thought there might have been a pair of dark, glinting, stormy eyes and a pair of wide, silvery blueones gazing at him.

He thought the owners of those voices, and those eyes, might have touched him, brutally and softly, with hands he almost remembered. He thought their hands might have wielded only blows, sometimes, and at others, brought him nothing but ease. He just wasn't certain sure. And being unsure, the thoughts whirling in his drug and pain ridden mind left him afraid to ask, afraid to challenge, afraid to know what his reality might be.

_Are you real? Are you really here with me? Were you ever with me before or did I just dream all of that? Could there be someone as lovely and kind and as caring as you, who wanted to, but couldn't always stay beside me? Could there be someone who warmed and sheltered me with only her silver, silken voice? Could there be anyone ever I loved this much and couldn't dare so much as reach for? _

_Was there someone … like you, ever before that I knew.. that I loved? Was there someone else, who couldn't stay, stay with me, either? Was there someone … with big grey eyes, sweet, rich, warm scents, and bright smiles and a soft, warm voice like yours who … seemed to … mebbee love me? _He wanted very much to ask her and couldn't face the answers

Was she really back beside him, caring, smiling and reading? Had she returned despite his many awful failings, his numerous horrific deeds, and his countless truly heinous crimes? Could he bring up a real or false memory of her hand on his arm, on his forehead, or on his face again? Would the doom he knew awaited allow him just a few instants' benign make-believe? Could he at least hold her voice in his imagination a little while now? Could he just pretend to squint up and see her vivid, handsome face, her sad smile, and her amazing wide, bright, silvery eyes?

"See… " He rasped out, hoping she'd answer, if only in a fine fever-dream. Shuddering, he hardly dared to whisper. The nightmare's voice had all but

choked off his own, demanding he only respond as it ordered. "See your …

pretty … eyes?"

"Why thank you, Kind Sir. I've always been a bit vain on that subject. But in all honesty, I find yours quite nice, as well. They're like you, fine, bright and truly gentle. " The lady, whether real or imagined he hardly cared now, answered him, smiling again.

"This… This is … a good … dream." He thought aloud, using up most of his strength. "I … I like… it. 'm real … glad … t' see… you… wasn't sure… if I … would."

Now she seemed to prove herself just a 'good dream'. First she took his hand, squeezing it warmly. Then she ruffled his hair, still damp from his latest bout of fever. Then she just barely brushed a kiss onto his forehead, in a wonderfully, somehow heartbreakingly motherly fashion. And now she spoke to him directly, her silvery voice kindly reassuring him, again.

"But you may set that fear aside now, dear lad. I shan't leave you again. That, I most solemnly promise. Nor shall you suffer _any further _harm. That is my wholehearted, unconditional pledge."

Suddenly, sure he had to be dreaming her, the man on the clean, soft bed grasped at her hand with what small force he could muster. Time and again, just when he'd thought he just might be safe, just might be warmed and welcomed again, all that had vanished, all that had left him again, sickened, ashamed, chilled to his core and terribly afraid of what always followed.

He wasn't sure he could withstand another such reversal. He wasn't sure he would survive, or do so with anything left of his mind, his spirit or his senses, afterwards. He wasn't sure if she was real, or if she was, that she could, much less she should, forgive his terrible crimes, ever. More than that, the fear springing up like a dark fountain inside him declared, he'd destroyed so many hearts he held dear, he might destroy hers, even now! Hanging his head, dream or not, he had to tell her the nightmare truth. Gathering all his strength, he held onto her hand, and made the longest speech he could ever recall making.

" you… y' shouldn't… stay. 'm … crazed… 'm purely …crazy… He… He'll likely come on back, any time, now an' tell you… But … I … I … know what … what I … done… an' … druther die… I'druther just … die, than ever … hurt you! An'… I always… hurt worst… folks that I …love… An' … I … love you… an' that's … that's wrong … real wrong… of me, too."

" But I albeit very respectfully, must disagree, my dear, young friend." She answered, lifting his spirits, and gently lifting his chin with her fingers. "You see, first of all, I've been well and truly lost to myself, and my senses, for quiet a long time. And I've never seen you in the 'parish' I've dwelled in, not even once.

Secondly, the person to whom you refer, the craven wretch who's been tormenting you, is very much occupied with his own troubles, and likely will be for some while, now. I would add to that the plain fact that I shall believe nothing the dastard may say as regards you, my lad. I know the corrupt workings of his mind and the depths _his_ genuine madness, and the bleakness of all his bitter lies.

These fears you have, my boy, _all spring_ from that coward's deceptions, I promise. He declares the rest of the world dangerously mad, when it is he who hates, envies and lays waste wherever, however and to whomsoever he can! His own violent darkness is what he would tar you with, my dear. But I have come to know you very well, in our time together. So I can tell you without the least question, you are the _polar opposite_ of our master prosecutor. You need have no further worry on his account.

I have set a close, constant watch on him as well. I will know the moment he thinks to approach us, So, now, you can rest, and you can take your ease. I've come to make certain of your safety. I've come to put an end to all that's harmed you, all that's hurt you, and all that's been done against you. You needn't, ever be afraid, now.

I've come to stop this nightmare, once and for all. And so I shall. Try not to be afraid, now, my boy.'' She told him, or at least he recalled her telling him that, at some time. "It will all end now… very soon, now. And I shall keep my promise to you. You will be safe and well, and home again quite soon, I swear it.

And lastly, as I said once before, whether you recall it or not, my dear lad; I find nothing wrong, nothing in the least in your honest affection. You've lifted my own spirits far more than you know. You've become quite dear to me, truly. Please, do try to rest. I'll be here, I promise. I'll go back to our reading, shall I, as it always seemed to help you? We'll go back to that last, sad, glorious chapter of Mr Dicken's'Tale'…"

"Please." 'the lad' nodded, tired out again. He wanted to lay and just bask in the warmth of her voice. He wanted to do whatever she asked. More than anything he wanted to believe her, to believe she was back, sitting beside him. With a weary sigh, nine parts relief, and one part worry for when his tormentor would come storming back, he tried to relax and explore a remarkably painless, fear-free nap. The lady's warm, silken voice, that had been gone for longer than the sick man could say was back, reading to him, reading something quiet and melancholy. He couldn't catch every one of the words she read. He was too tired for that. And he wasn't wholly sure that mattered to him. Her wondrous, caring, welcoming voice was back!

And that meant, the feverish, badly shaken man on the cot desperately hoped, she might have come back again, herself! Not being able to be sure of that, or anything else was his main worry, now. At least, that was the main worry he recollected having. Nothing stayed the same, no one stayed beside him for any length of time he could measure. No one came close enough for him to reach for, to see clearly, or to be sure of.

But it surely seemed she was still here. She was still reading quietly to him. And he loved the sound of her silvery, silken voice. She was still here. She didn't mind if he admitted he loved her. She said _he _lifted _her _spirits. She insisted the man he feared would come back and accuse him, come back and harm her, was the _crazed _one. She said she meant for the nightmare to end. What more could he _ever _ask?

'' Chapter XV The Footsteps Die Out Forever.''

Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine.

All the devouring and insatiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in France, with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain than those that have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind. "

[ Charles Dickens, Chapter 15, A Tale of Two Cities]


	30. Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE The hunting lodge on the grounds of Widow's Retreat

"Bonds! I'm here for my bearer-bonds. And by Gad, I will have them!" An elderly to all appearances, Eastern nabob stood shouting, at the side doorsto Moray's study downstairs in the hunting lodge. He had been fairly tall at an earlier age, it seemed, but now his shoulders were bent almost to his collarbone. His features were weathered and shrunken in the way that only long years can cause. His eyes were cloudy as if with severe cataracts, his hands' trembling with weakness, and his thick head of hair was white as the snow in the highest altitudes of the Rockies.

"Where is that bothersome Pascat woman? Where is she? She's absconded with my bearer-bonds, I know it! Where has she taken my property? They were no part of our agreement, my bearer-bonds. And come to find she's stolen from me! Where is that Pascat!"

"Just who are you, sir?" Joss Ashford, Moray's newly minted Second demanded, stepping onto the veranda to confront the old man.

"Who am…? Who am I? Why, you upstart! You scoundrel, you whippersnapper!" The old man cried out, waving his hands in indignation. "I am the former owner of this very property! And I have business here with the reprehensible, false and treacherous female to whom I sold it, and no one else! Where is that Pascat woman?"

"Mister, are you meaning to say you're looking for the Widow of General Pascale?" Ashford asked. "Because if you are, she has her rooms in the big house down by the eastern side of the compound, not up here. And if not, then I'd say you're on the wrong place, altogether."

"The wrong… the wrong… !" The old gent repeated, fuming. "Boy, you are the one in the wrong place here. I am Jonathan David Lachlan Ely of Ely Petroleum, Copper, Gold and Silver! AndI owned this very piece of land for nearly forty years, until less than five months ago. I made my summer home here for thirty of those forty years, as well. I held this property until I finally got a decent offer for it, or so I thought!

But come to find out, I sold this property to a sneakin', connivin', lyin' female and I've been robbed, I've been cheated and I've been defrauded! And I know the woman said she meant to live here. And that house? That old house isn't worth the time or trouble it would take to tear it down. So she must be living in my old lodge up here. So, you get her for me! I don't care what her name is, I want my bonds,

my bearer bonds, the ones shes stolen!"

"Who the hell is that?" Ashford demanded, as another newcomer raced up to the side porch of the lodge, and stopped beside the oldster.

"Oh, here you are, JonD!" Jemmy Singer called out. "I don't know how you do it! I'm real sorry, Mister. I'm Jemison Singer, I'm JonD's doctor, well one of his doctors. But the old fellow gave me the slip, again!"

"Stop callin' me old, you young … botheration!" Adam Gordonson in the persona of JD Ely shouted at Jem, turning all his attention and his seeming rage at the young physician. "I'm just …distinguished! And robbed nearly blind, to boot!"

''Now, now, JonD.'' Jemmy, intervened now, putting his hand on the 'old gent's shoulder. '' You know you shouldn't let these things get your temper up this way. You're risking another attack of apoplexy, old friend. Now, come on, take a deep breath or two and take your medicine, you're a good two hours off your scheduleas it is.''

[ Connie told me, by every indication, young Jacob's up in the attic here] Adam signed to his partner, as Jemmy handed him a small flask to drink from.

[ Well, that's a start, at least. This lodge looks to be almost as big as the mansion. So that attic isn't going to exactly be tiny. And if it has even a third of the rooms…] Jem signed back, sighing.

[ We've got our work cut out for us.] Adam agreed. [ Or you do, at least. I fully intend to be busy bearding a certain Charleston-born lion, right here in what looks like his den.]

[ Oh, no, you don't! ] Jemmy answered. [ I'm here as your doctor, old friend. So I can hardly just sneak off and go exploring, now can I?]

'' Sorry, JonD, no can do. Not when we've come this far, now can I?'' Jemmy chuckled. [And really, I wasn't talking about 'old JonD' just then. You look like you could keel over any minute now.]

"Which ain't very far, so far as I can tell!" Adam as JonD scowled, completely in character and completely annoyed.

[And that is the main part of our cover! Which, once it got us on the compound, the plan was to use old JonD's plain, unvarnished temper tantrums to get us inside this G-d forsaken hunting lodge on this G-d forsaken property here! And here we are!

So I will engage Mr Moray, Esquire as soon as he makes an appearance. And you will take off to look for the young man who's the reason we're here.]

"JonD, you're just getting yourself all worked up, now." Jemmy insisted. "You're just gonna collapse, if you don't take it easy, old friend."

[ No, the plan was, once my old friend and patient got me inside the compound, for me to hike on back to this G-d forsaken hunting lodge to find my hopefully not G-d forsaken younger cousin! And we may not even need

to hurry with that, if Cooper or Slim or Teo or any of the others who already came up the hill to find th' boy, have actually found him! ] Jemmy contradicted his partner.

'' Now, now, Doc, you're edging towards turning just a tad bit purple yourself there.'' 'Ely' advised the Raleigh born physician, handing back the small flask. ''Maybe you should take some of this patent medicine you keep foisting on me.''

'' Foisting…. patent medicine…'' Jemmy frowned, shaking his head. Sometimes, Adam's patented 'annoying old geezers' were annoying enough to get his goat as well as the bad guys!

"Hey! Are you two gonna go on stamdin' here, drinkin' all day, or talk to me now? This here's private property, and it don't belong to nobody named Ely!" Joss Ashford shouted. "So, suppose you tell me what's the matter and try to make sense!"

'' What? What is the matter?'' Ely exclaimed, almost turning purple as he glared at Ashford and stomped his feet, in evident frustration.

'' I told you already! The matter is bonds, sir! The matter is the bonds, bearer-bonds of some value I left here, in my private office, sir, in my private huntin' lodge! The matter is this arrangement was to be of a temporary nature only, sir, and therefore I felt no need to carry off all my most sensitive financial papers!

The matter is there was nothin', nothin' whatever in the agreement I reached with that Pacas, Pascat, Pas-whatever danged woman, stating that anyone in her entourage would set foot inside my lodge, much less take up their residence there for all this while, sir! No, sir! There was nothing remotely like that in our agreement! Well, you seem smart enough! Well, you can read, can't you?

Look for yourself if you're so bad mannered a man old enough to be your grandfather, you young whelp! Or maybe that fellow can read 'em to you!" Adam/JonD replied, waving a sheaf of legal papers, and pointing at someone striding towards them from the study.

"Josiah! Josiah, what in the very devil goes on here?" Heydon Moray shouted, stepping out onto the veranda now. "Who are _these_ interlopers and how did _they _get here? What has happened to the watch? Where are all the guards I ordered posted? Why are they not on duty? And how can I hope to accomplish anything with all this caterwauling going on?"

"Jem! JonD, here you are!" Mac Macquillan called out, rushing to join his partners and proteges, before anyone else there could answer Moray.

"Sorry to disrupt your morning, gentlemen. I'm Dr. Vincent Thomas Mullaney of Brookline, just outside Boston. Jemison Singer here is my young colleague, especially when it comes to treating our old friend, JonD Ely. I'm afraid the old gentleman tends to wander off, now and then."

"And now he seems to have wandered onto my private property, sir!" Moray claimed, knowing Ashford wouldn't contradict him in front of strangers. "You will remove him and yourselves at once."

"Not without m' bonds! Without m' bearer-bonds, I'm not movin' one step!" Adam-JonD insisted, clenching his fists and glaring at each man there in turn.

"Bearer bonds?" Moray repeated, his interest piqued as always by any notion

of wealth to be had. "Do you mean the type of bond which are open to use by whomsoever holds them?"

"Well, surely!" 'JonD' exclaimed. "Why th' devil else would they be called bearer-bonds! An' you know they're up here, don't you? In fact, lookin' at you, sonny, I'd say you probably nabbed every one of 'em that Pasket woman didn't steal!"

"I am an attorney, sir." Moray declared, stepping between the agents and the French doors. "An officer of the court! I do not engage in criminal activities of that nature! And I know nothing of any such documents or certificates on these premises!"

"Well now, sonny, if you're bein' honest with me you wouldn't know m' bonds were here at all. Nope! How would you know of 'em unless that Passkey female told you I left m' bonds here?" 'JonD' demanded, stifling a laugh at Moray's claims. "So you just let me pass, an' I'll recollect the whole parcel. I know just where I left that old strongbox they're in!"

Moray stepped between Adam and the doorway again. Stiffening his stance as if posing for a memorial statue he took on his master-prosecutor manner. " You were about to show some alleged proof of your statements to my subordinate here. You may now show those papers to me."

" I may… " 'JonD' sputtered and coughed, coughed and sputtered some more, to hide his impulse to laugh in the South Carolinian's face.

"JonD, you're only getting yourself worked up now." Macquillan insisted, taking the old gent by the arm. "Jem, will you help our old friend to rest over there on that bench? If you don't mind that is, gentlemen. You have to excuse the old gent… Mister … ummm, Mister… "

"C'mon, old friend." Jemmy grinned, leading 'JonD' towards a bench further down the long veranda. "You shouldn't let yourself get so upset, and you know it." [ Great job, partner, they can't keep their eyes off JonD.] The physician-agent signed. [ And that's at least buying Teo and Slim more time to find Jess.]

[ And you'd far rather be searching with them, right now. Why don't you take off, Jem? Thomas and I have only run this kind of scam a few thousand times by now, you know.] Adam answered, and started into another 'coughing fit'.

"Vin," Jemmy said aloud, addressing Mac now. " I think he'd be fine, if we could just get him some water. But if I'm wrong, he's going to have to lie down and in a quick hurry, too. I'm going to go back for my kit, and that new stethescope, I want to listen to his lungs. Would one of you gentlemen, please bring our old fried a cup of water? I think it would really help him, right now, thank you."

"Josiah, if you will comply with the young doctor's request." Moray ordered. "I'd like to get this matter resolved and the old g… gentleman on his way, once more."

"Surely." Ashford nodded, chuckling and left the porch.

"I'm be back just as quickly as possible, try to take it easy, now. Will you?" Jemmy asked and hurried away.

" I am Holland Pederson Conyers Mahann, the Fourth, sir, and this is my home." Moray lied with long practiced ease. " Are we to understand now that the old gentleman has been under your care? If so, how is it that he came here, unescorted, not to say uninvited? And will you please do all in your power to remove him hence as quickly as possible, sir? Clearly he should not be allowed to wander about unaccompanied. May one assume then, that there are no such bonds in or out of his possession?"

" There may well be. And there may not. You see, I'm afraid the truth of the matter is that old JonD doesn't always remember things clearly, or what he's previously agreed to, these days. There's been an increasing deficit in his faculties, since his attacks began, something over a year back."

" You're lying! He's lying, I tell you!" Adam cried out, giving every evidence of being an increasingly fuddled, and increasingly frustrated, angry old man. "I've got not one deficit, anywhere! I've never in my life run a deficit in any of my companie's budgets! And I'll fire the first accountant who tries to do so, before he can put his quill in any pot of red ink!"

" JonD, you really have to stop this." Macquillan advised the old man, striding over to sit beside him now. "You're in such a dither at this point, you're not paying heed to what _anyone's saying_. You're shaking like a willow. And your color's no good. And I told you last night, tramping back up this hill instead of sending one of your assistants was not going to be a good idea. And you're_ proving _me right."

" Well, I don't feel so fine just now, come to mention it, Vincent, old friend." Adam sighed, looking bone weary and abruptly, defeated. "But I … I just can't let those bonds … just vanish, can I? They're my … my grandchildren's … no, my great grandchildren's inheritance, after all."

Moray, never one to hold back where money in large amounts was at issue, stepped closer and then closer to the two agents, who were also, doctor and patient, as it happened. "An inheritance, really?" The Charleston native said, under his breath. "Well, then we should certainly do our utmost to find such valuable items. Taking another step towards the pair, he spoke aloud.

"Is your patient feeling any better now, Doctor? Should we be getting him indoors?"

"That would be a truly fine idea, once his breathing and his blood pressure settle down." Macquillan answered. "And again, I'm sorry to inconvenience you, sir. We're only up here today because my longtime friend, JonD wasn't going to calm down one iota, until either he retrieves these bonds he thinks he left here, or he sees that they're not here at all. And with the way his health has been just lately, I'm afraid Dr. Singer and I have been letting the old fellow have his way more than we might , under different circumstances.''

"Well, yes, certainly. Quite understandable, isn't it?" Moray smiled tautly. Then he turned back to where Ashford was approaching through the study."Josiah, what took so long? Did you by some chance, send one of the boys _to Canada_ for that cup of water?"

"No, HP, I had to fetch it myself! Seems Jaimey and Phillips are nowhere to be found, again this morning!" Joss replied, scowling and handing the cup to Macquillan. "Here's that water, Doc. Hope the old gee… old gent is some better."

"He will be, eventually. Thanks." Mac nodded. " Now, drink this up, JonD, it might fend off another coughing jag."

Adam complied, and with a wink at his mentor and partner, suddenly started gasping for air. "Vin…cent… old… old… friend… I…I'm… having some … " he

rasped out, as if in terrible pain and then bonelessly slid off the bench.

" JonD! Jonathan David, can you hear me, old friend? Mr. Mahann! Help us! He's having another attack!" The Bostonian cried out. "Great G-d! He's unconscious!"

[ Enough with the old, old, already.] Mac signed, as he bent over Adam's barely moving, apparently barely breathing form. [ Save that for Jem.]

[ Just keeping in practice, Thomas.] Adam signed back.

"Josiah, help the man indoors at once! He can rest on the divan here in the study. And then send someone down to the mansion. We may need old Gabe Colville's assistance as well." Moray ordered. "And once you've done that, institute a full search of the premises for those two worthless, indolent boys! Did you say no one had seen them, again, today?"

"No, HP, Cook saw Jaimey in the kitchen, and then he took off with a tureen of soup. Seems as though The Widow decided it would be a good day to do some of her danged sketching and such _up in the attic._ Jaimey was taking her that soup, he told Cook, so _Herself_ wouldn't collapse from starvation!" Ashford told him, as he and Mac carried 'JonD' inside. When the old gent was settled on a leather divan, with his feet up, his cravat undone and his collar open, Moray turned his attention back to his Second.

"In the attic? Well, that changes the governance of the matter currently in question, doesn't it? That brings the damnable, interfering madwoman back into my sphere of influence, doesn't it? Lee Henry will hardly dare _breathe_ too harshly in my direction, whilst his 'Dearest Twin' is within my control!" Moray frowned darkly, and then grinned abruptly, at the idea of Pascale's being in the lodge at all, much less anywhere near _his_ prisoner now!

"I'll look into the matter of that tureen of soup, myself, then. Who knows what kind of folly The Lady is up to, up there! Oh, and the men making that search for the boys should also be told to look for an old strongbox, Josiah. It could be very much worth our while to find. But there's no reason the men, other than Jordan, of course, should know about that … factor, is there?"

"No reason, HP, no reason at all!" Joss Ashford grinned fiercely and started to leave Moray, Macquillan and Adam without another word, when rifle fire clattered out, back and forth, all along the front of the lodge. This 'conversation' went on forsome few minutes, subsided, and then opened up and cut off, once more. Ashford dropped his voice and turned away from their unwanted visitors.

"Figure I'll put off sendin' the boys on that search, just now, HP. Sounds like Lee Henry, or somebody's decided to come at us! And if you're right, it's not Lee Henry's boys out there, but them damn Fed-coppers!"

That remark brought a quick grin to both Adam and Mac, but both 'Fed-coppers' quickly composed their features again. "Is there some kind of war going on up here?" Macquillan irately asked.

" We thought we heard gunfire from this direction, last evening down at the spurhead! I can't have my friend and my patient in this kind of danger, you know!"

"Doc, this is nothin!" Joss insisted, laughing for the stranger's benefit." This is just some of the younger fellows up here lettin' off some steam, that's all. They get kinda restless, some days, and either go out huntin', or just get too drunk to be as chary as they might about where they're shootin', that's all."

"Hey, Joss! Hey, HP, what're ya doin' standin' around in here? An' where's Jordy got to?" Niall Ashton called out, racing into the study. "Doncha know what's happened? Hev ya gone purely deaf? There's a firefight goin' on! Mickey Stewart, he come up first, sayin' he only wanted t' confab with Rand an' Jaimey, sayin' he only wanted t' see they was alright. Then Jaimey an' Rand they went out, an' ol' Mick he commenced wailin' an' fussin' an fumin', sayin' he wouldn't budge an' inch away from here without 'em. So Rand an' Jaimey, they commenced weepin' an' hollerin', sayin' they wouldn't let him go back on his lonesome where they'd have t' fight their own brother!

Me an' Morgan an Rabbie, we was on watch an we heard 'em, an' went runnin ' over. An' then all hell commenced t' break out! Some of ol' Solly's boys come up from th' Widow's place, just now, mad as wet hens, on account a what ol' Brady an' Timmy said, fore they got dead! Y'all never sent Brady nor Timmy after th' Colonel, did ya? Timmy an' Brady, they made that one up outa whole cloth, is the way we got it figured. Cause if ya did, Zekiel, berto an' Addy'd be here, lookin' t' take y'all down right about now.

An' then some more of 'em came, sayin' we nabbed th' Widow for a hostage an' brung her up here! Now, Morgan an me, Rabbie an' Des we got it figured y'all wouldn't do that, cause that'd bring ol' Lee Henry right down on our heads like th' Lord's own vengeance, most like! So I come on over t' see if we figured it right.

We figure y'all never nabbed th' Widow away from Lee Henry, either, right? Cause that'd be just plumb crazy. Th' Widow Herself she'd likely bite off yer heads, if ya even tried it! An' if y'all done her any hurt, ol' Lee Henry… well, figure he'd come after all of us, on his lonesome if he had to, if y'all done that! An' some of th' boys here, they got it figured like they wouldn't stop him, cause we don't hold with nobody hurtin' no ladies!"

Moray's face brightened with rage and he raised one long hand, now, as if to

strike this eager young messenger dead. He looked very much as if he wishednever to hear anything of any women, ever again. He looked almost desperate, Adam and Mac both noted. But Ashford stopped his Commander by the simple agency of stepping between him and Niall.

"HP, th' boy was on watch, it's his job to come an' report just this kinda trouble as soon as he can." Joss sternly told Moray, looking him straight in the eye as few of the Company men dared.

" Yes, yes. So it is." Moray nodded, scowling. " Well, you have our leave to go now, Mr. Ashton. Josiah, you and Jordan will make an assessment of this situation as quickly as you possibly can. Then delegate at least two of the Command here to the search we were just now discussing. I will, in turn take my part, in locating the Widow Pascale and her damnable unfaithful mulattoes. No doubt she's employed coercion, extortion or outright bribery to take them back into her service at this crucial point! No doubt we should have expected nothing less than desertion from that pair of scoundrels!"

But now, as the 'Master Prosecutor' strode out of the study, muttering dire imprecations against all forms of Federals, 'darkies' and females at once, the

crack of a sharpshooter's rifle firing close by rang out. Moray reeled on his feet and fell heavily to the polished wood floorboards. "I am murdered, Josiah!" he cried out. "I am murdered!"

Ashford knelt beside his Commander and shook his head. Moray was wounded, a shot had gone clear through his right shoulder. But he'd survive, if any of them did. "You're hurt some, HP, but not killed. Doc, if you could spare us a minute here, you've got yourself another patient! Niall-boy, you light out for the mansion an' bring ol' Doc Colville back, on the run. I don't care who or what tries t' stop you, you bring that old man up here, you got it?"

"Yes, sir!" The boy nodded and 'lit out' as ordered.

Thomas Macquillan, following his oath to Apollo, Physician, quickly moved from his seat by the divan to the man on the floor. Adam, who'd been mostly portraying JonD as near comatose, took that occasion to glance out the French doors and grin.

Teo Bracamante, standing on the wide railing that ran the length of the veranda, grinned back even wider as Adam mouthed. " Teodor, old friend, you missed. You should have aimed for his heart."

"Couldn't, old friend. He doesn't have one." Teo quipped, and vanished around the corner of the old lodge, again.


	31. Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY Lodge at Widow's Retreat, outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

Eugenie Pascale stopped reading when the boy seemed to drift off. Somehow, due to his ordeal, she found he seemed younger, more vulnerable than ever. His wiry frame was even thinner, his face paler. And his strength, which had seemed on the mend to some extent was, with his youthful self-esteem, terribly shaken.

"And it will be shaken again, when you learn how deeply I've wronged you, my lad!" She whispered. "Nor can that be mitigated by how profoundly I regret bringing you and all Neddy's friends into the midst of my … own ordeal." Now she broke off, quietly weeping, and the 'lad', who hadn't been able to sleep much in awhile thought his own exhausted heart would nearly break, to hear it.

''N-n-no, do-don't.'' He tried to tell her, pushing each syllable with what seemed terrific effort, still not sure his voice could reach her. He was so amazed and glad to see her, he could hardly think or hope she might be there in fact, beside him. ''Please. I don't… want y' sad… ever…''

'' You see, I knew from our first meeting you truly are a gentleman, my boy.'' Pascale told him whispering, and gave the weary boy a tremulous smile. '' And I was … greatly at fault, my dear boy, even then, believing the opposite to be the case. I … am still very much at fault, for letting myself believe such frauds, such cheats, and such outright mendacity about you!

So, now, while we have a moment, please tell me, have you continued feverish all the while I was unable to stay with you? You've clearly suffered in the hands of those I thought would care for you in my absence! You seem significantly more bewildered than on my latest visit, my dearest young Jacob. Can you give me some notion, some idea of what has happened while I was closeted with Lee Henry?''

'' … dunno…'' He said and wary again of the pain it usually carried, declined to move his head. ''My head … hurt… real sharp… some time, just lately, all th' way through…. real… sharp-like… a kinda knife… a … kinda wire… Made ever' thing, talkin', movin', ever' thing … slower… blurrier… heavier… An' more confuddled…''

'' Ah, so I feared. That is something I was warned could happen with abrupt removal of the … medicine… '' Pascale listened and nodded, patting his' left arm. ''But, I was also told it's a transitory matter… truly. And you're proving that to be the case. Yes, you're already speaking very clearly. And you're remembering … more and more, I'd surmise.

I'll set my reading aside for another moment, since Heydon Palmerston is busy elsewhere or at least, we may hope, out of earshot. My dear boy, my dear Jacob, I know a great deal more about you now than I did, at our meeting, some weeks ago. I believed I knew a great deal then. But as I said, much of that merely was one lie built upon another! I shan't weary you with the whole appalling story, not just now. Suffice to say, while we wait Heydon Palmerston's very likely arrival, I know you are a fine, young gentleman. And I learned the truth of that while you began to recover.

You… could have been the ruffian, the bitter gunman I was led to believe you were. You could have been, with no small due cause, the kind of brute so many of our boys became after the Conflict ended. You could have thrown away your proud, young life on rage, and on vengeance. But none of those hard cases fits the boy I've come to know here. None of them are Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith Harper. That is, none of them are you, my lad. ''

''Ja… Jacob Em… rees…_'' _the still troubled and deeply perplexed young man on the cot beside her echoed. ''Is… is that… m' name, then?''

''Yes, yes, it is, in fact. And it's a name to be proud of, as I understand, having come from fine old gentleman from Louisville, originally, who befriended and aided your father significantly, as a lad. Do you have no memory, just now, of your namesake or how you came to bear his name, either?''

''I …dunno. I can't seem t' come up with much of any recollection… an' none of bein' called Ja-Jacob.'' her patient answered glumly.

''Oh, oh, of course not. '' she smiled again, and he didn't much care what she

called him when she smiled. '' I believe you're far more accustomed to a sort of abbreviated form of your birth name. 'Jess'? Is that more familiar?''

''Jess?… '' He echoed and scratched at his neck, behind his left ear as if he could find the connecting memory there. '' _'m not called Jesse, 'm called Jess'._ a small boy's voice insisted doggedly in his mind now, in a memory that went back more than twenty years… to a muddy path below a rambling house on the crest of an east Texas hill outside an already deep-rooted town called …

''Nacogdoches!'' Jess whispered. '' 'm not called Jesse, 'm called Jess, an' I was born at my granddaddy's house near Nacogdoches, in east Texas! 'm Jess Harper, ma'am an' I … '' he stopped stock still again as another, much newer memory came. He was walking down a grassy swale towards a woman, this woman beside him now. She was sitting near an upturned gig, by a lakeside and he was saying _Ma'am? M' names' Harper, Jess Harper. And I'm … I don't mean you any harm, not any harm at all. _

'' My names' Harper, Jess Harper… ''The owner of that name repeated, as the woman beside him gasped, grew pale and looked away. ''And I'm … I don't mean you any harm, not any harm at all …ma'am…''

''No, no, you didn't mean anything but to help me!'' Eugenie Pascale sighed, still not looking at him. '' And now you're remembering how it was we met one another, aren't you? And I wish… oh, how I wish I could say you were wrong in what you're surely recalling!''

Jess shook his head, not caring right now if it started aching. He wouldn't believe anything bad about her. He couldn't. She was his protector, his guardian, his only friend here. '' You… you must've fallen… out of th' carriage… You weren't… You were … real … bollixed up… I mean… confused, ma'am… ''

'' I was very badly confused, yes.'' Pascale agreed, finally turning her wide, brilliant gaze back to Jess again. '' But not in the way you mean it. I had not fallen, nor taken any hurt at all that morning. I was never in that broken phaeton. But I allowed you to believe differently, as a diversion. And that diversion succeeded, brilliantly…

Ah, my dear boy! … Ah, I have no right to call you that, and well I know it! … I thought I knew all I needed to know of you, that day! I thought I knew the man,the unrepentant, callous, pitiless enemy I'd been seeking for six years by then! I thought I'd finally encountered the man who took my younger brother from me forever! And none of that was true, and none of that, even if it had been so, will ever, ever justify my horrendous deeds up to that point, or my yet worse intentions before I ever knew you!''

''No… no.'' Jess insisted, feeling the warmth she always brought steal out him now. '' No, I don't …believe that. I won't believe that …about you.''

'' You will.'' Pascale told him. '' I'm sure at some point you will believe it … If only because it would be… beyond absurdity to invent … to construct a story such as this. So, please, while we seem to have this bit of time to ourselves, please let me confess my terrible wrongs to you. It's the absolute least you deserve from me, and the very least I mean to do for you, now. Will you hear me?''

'' Sure.'' Jess nodded, his head seeming ready to spin off his shoulders anyway,right now. Somehow, without understanding how, he had himself and his memory back. And he could just about make sense of what he heard, as far as knowing what the words were supposed to mean. But what the lady … the beautiful, kind, caring lady beside him was saying… that just wouldn't make any sense in his mind or in his heart at all.

''Thank you, kind sir.'' Pascale said, giving Jess a tremulous smile that nearly broke his heart to see.

'' My father was Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey of St. Bernard's Parish, Louisiana, just within the boundaries of N'Orleans. My mother was Isabelle Terese Mariamne Danvers Morrissey and she was born in Port au Prince, Haiti. My … late husband was Major General Phillips Napier Pascale originally of Baton Rouge, who raised several Louisiana cavalry regiments and commanded one of them. I am his widow, Eugenie Isabelle Lisanor Morrissey Pascale, named for _maman_ and for her mother.

When I was nine years of age my mother gave birth to her third and last healthy child, her second living son. But she died herself, soon afterwards. _Maman_ asked that my newborn brother be named for father, and so he was baptized: Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, the Second. But as _notre pere _lived until my brother was nearly seventeen years of age, we took to calling my younger brother 'Neddy'. Just as you and your cohort called him Neddy as well, while he served in H Company of the 8th Texas Cavalry with you, Jacob.''

''An' you an' Neddy have another brother… he told us… '' Jess added, feeling his throat ache with tears at another memory… ''He's your twin brother, named for Lighthorse Harry …''

'' Yes, that's so. My twin was named, in my father's own eccentric fashion, for Richard Henry Lee, our own greatest General's heroic father, Lee Henry Richard, is my twin's name, to be precise.'' Pascale nodded.

''… Ah, G-d, m' so awfully sorry, ma'am!" Jess exclaimed, remembering something more. "That… that real angry fellow… that Moray… I kept hopin' he'd lied' about it… but … he told me Neddy… died. An' he told me … how … An' 'm real, real sorry. I should've done somethin'… I … never would've… ''

'' You never would knowingly let any such harm come to a friend. I truly do know that, now, my lad!'' the widow Pascale agreed. But I … I grievously, wrongly blamed …you and your cohort… '' Pascale nodded, her wide eyes shining again with tears

"I let myself believe the most terrible lies, I wanted … I so wanted someone to strike out at… So, I believed the worst of my Neddy's dearest, most cherished young friends… I made them, I made you the object for all my vengeance.

''Ned… Neddy was a force to reckon with… rode like a whole, wild pack of Kiowa Apaches…'' Jess murmured, blinking back his own tears for his lost friend and for the lady beside him. '' He… looked like … th' next strong wind… would clean bowl ..him over. But nothin ' could!"

"No, nothing!" Pascale agreed, venturing a tiny, sad smile. "Neddy was … always … quite determined… A family trait, I believe."

"Likely… he… saved my life… bein' just that stubborn. 'M so sorry. Truly. He was … fine, Neddy was. Just th' best, really. I should've … kept with him… 'm not … sure… you're wrong … t' blame me…'' Jess sighed, dejected.

''Ah, well, on just that point we are not going to agree, I fear.'' Pascale told him, with tears brightening her wide, bright eyes. '' But you may indeed come around to my perspective… when all is … said and done here… You don't know even half of what I've done … and ordered done… to take my revenge… ''

Now, more sure than ever that he shouldn't let her go on, not when it hurt her so badly, Jess reached for and rashly, he thought, took the widow's hand. '' But you're … you're not alone in that… " The Texan insisted. "You're not …not by a long …shot. Figure just … 'bout everybody wanted t' take heads when th' War ended, an' ask questions later. Reckon' I wanted t' …knock down, fight or shoot anything, …anyone that crossed me, back then."

''And did you?'' the widow asked. ''No, I thought not. Well, you have a true gentleman's understanding, my … lad… And you have a tremendous strength

of character, which… I wish I'd possessed at any time in the past … six years!

So, even if you allow me to tell you the whole, nightmare story… perhaps

at some time… on some distant day… you will be able to … to forgive me.

I shan't expect that, my dear, no, not even from that fine, brave, compassionate young heart of yours. Perhaps, at some point though, you'll find you no longer hate me. And that would greatly ease my sad, old heart, I do assure you.''

'' Hate you? I couldn't!'' Jess declared. ''You know I … I love you. An' mebbee I shouldn't say it…An' mebbee I shouldn't feel it, either… Bein' you're widowed an' all… But … it's so…An' nothin' could change it, just nothin, ever!

An' Neddy… I remember… him… readin' your letters out… t' th' boys … if we got stuck in camp… not th' whole letter… o' course! But … he'd read about your parties, dances an' hunts an'… all th' books you sent him… Neddy'd read them, too… You…. you read me some… whilst I've been here… ummm… some that were Neddy's favorite stories… I remember… like …Ivanhoe…''

'' He did love that one, always.'' Pascale agreed. "Go on, please, tell me what more that you've remembered about my brother, won't you?''

''Surely, I will… ummm… Neddy… well, he was always sort of reedy… sort of thin… real tall, an' light haired… An' like I said, Neddy looked from th' first as if a good, strong puff of wind could take him down… But we learned… an' so did a mortal lot of Yankees, t' our regret, that there was nothin' could take Neddy Morrissey down, just nothin' ever!

An' some of th' boys, at first called Neddy 'Eiderdown, or Milkweed, or Dandelion… but they all… we all learned better, an' in a quick hurry, too. An' most of all, we learned that Neddy rode an' fought like a blood-crazed Kiowa Apache brave on th' warpath. An' he could ride an' shoot better than a lot of us did, to start with, despite it never bein a matter of huntin' his dinner, not whilst he grew up…

Figure Neddy was always surprisin' th' boys, though… See, we kinda guessed he was chock full of book learnin' right off, but it took us all unawares to find he could pin just about any of us when we showed we had no common sense whatso danged ever! Neddy talked like genuine gent, and a school professor all bound up in one, and he liked usin' those 2 and 3 and 4 bit words he knew how to use, a whole,

whole lot!

But he would drop all that, and have a grand time, convincin' some newcomer, or better yet, some new officer comin' through camp, that Neddy Morrissey never got inta, much less outa grammar school, ever at all!'' Jess laughed and then stopped, looking up at Pascale, completely chagrined. ''Uh… ummm… sorry, ma'am… figure I might've kept that back… Figure y' don't like hearin' how Neddy could put on like he was … as rough as th' lot of us fellows.''

''I like it very much indeed.'' Pascale contradicted him, smiling again. ''My dearest Neddy … was a greatly gifted thespian… well able to take on any part he chose and make himself entirely another person. Father wouldn't ever have had it, or I truly believe my younger brother might have gone onto the stage… when he came… home again… ''

'' We … me an' Aaron, Aaron Caulder that was with Neddy in … in Atlanta… '' Jess started to tell her, and once more hesitated.

''Sergeant Caulder … yes.'' the widow nodded. ''I … I recently … came across some of his letters and journals. Please, go on, my lad. I said I wanted to hear whatever you've recollected about my brother. So, please, do go on.''

'' We… we thought certain sure Neddy'd make it. I don't know if you can b'lieve that… He wanted t' get on home so awfully much. He hadn't had any leave at all since he got brevetted Captain, an' I … figure he wanted t' show off his Captain's bars… for y'. Heck… I remember Neddy jokin' how it didn't matter a bit he'd lost his right arm… bein' he was left handed! He always made that kinda joke… in all the toughest times, y' see.'' Jess told her.

'' He did. Neddy always had father's profoundly ironic sense of humor.'' Pascale replied, tearing up slightly.

A knock at the doorway behind her made Jess nearly jump off the cot now. The only other person he remembered coming near him just lately was Moray. Pascale turned around, a bit apprehensive herself, and as she stood and stepped towards the door, Jess saw one of the mulattoes.

"Phillips," The Widow demanded. "Is there some news? Are we to expect our Master Prosecutor or some other invaders up here, directly?"

[ No ma'am.] Phillips answered, signing. [ I came up to tell you he's been shot. He'll be all right, the Doc says. Also, how he got hurt, is there's been some firefights going on all around the lodge this morning, and lots of other … confusion as well.

Now, Jaimey and me are supposed to be looking for you, ma'am, and for that

young Texan, as the boys here seem to think you've both gone missing. And the boys comin' up from the mansion seem to think the boys here went and took you both hostage. Also, there's supposed to be some Yankee lawmen around here, somewheres.]

"I see. And was it Doctor Colville who saw to our 'wounded jurist-lion'?" Pascale asked.

[Not at first, ma'am, no. There was this old geezer come up into the compound, right up to the lodge and claimed he used to live here, used to own the whole place. It was the older Doc who came with the old man that got HP fixed up. Then the younger Doc who tagged along came back and … that young Doc doped HP up, pretty good, ma'am. ] Phillips started to grin and to chuckle, then pulled a straight face.

"He doped Moray?" Jess called out, surprising both Pascale and her servant. " Where is this young Doc, I think I want to purely shake his hand!"

The Widow turned back, wide eyed to glance at the young Texan. " Jacob, have you learned the boy's signing while you've been so much in their company?" She asked.

"Umm, no, ma'am." Jess shook his head with a still weary grin. "I learned it from Neddy, a lot of th' boys in H Company did, an' used it for close-in signalin', from time t' time. Dint know where Neddy learned it himself… Have to figure now he got it from Phillips there or Jaimey, or both of 'em, when he was a boy."

"Yes, I'd imagine so. Phillips, what more can you tell us?"

[So Jaimey and me, we don't figure he'll be doing much besides sleeping it off for a time, HP, that is. Doc Gabe,he come up the hill soon after an' said those two other Docs did real fine by HP. Said he'd like to find you himself, ma'am and see how you're doing, about now. So, knowing you've trusted him for all this long time, ma'am… ]

"You brought my dear friend Gabriel with you, I do hope?"The Widow asked, supressing a smile of her own.

"He did!" Gabriel Colville answered, striding into the attic room. " I was just contemplating making the trip, when young Niall Ashton came running down the hill as though Tecumseh Sherman and the whole danged Army of the Tennessee, not to be confused with our own Joe Johnston's Army of Tennessee, naturally, was right on his tail! How are you, Eugenie, and just where and how is this much sought after young Texan of yours? What's this I hear about the two of you becoming Heydon Palmerston's hostages now?"

"I am … well, Gabriel. And my charge is here with me, somewhat recovered. As for our being hostages though, that seems to be a myth someone has mischievously spread amongst the Company." Pascale said, blushing.

"Well, Lee Henry seems quite beside himself over that myth, Eugenie Isabelle." Colville scolded her, but with a grin of his own. "Now, I'll see to your 'charge'. Now, the white haired Atlanta native sat next to Jess' cot as The Widow consulted further with Phillips. "I believe you may have shaken that 'young Doc's' hand quite often before now. He is, as it happens, one of my protégé's and one of your cousins, from Raleigh."

"Jemmy?" Jess whispered, amazed and chagrined.

" As I heard it, he entirely gave up waiting for you to find your way east

for that visit and came west to see you, young Jacob." Colville nodded with a smile and a wink. "I daresay he'll make his way up here as soon as circumstances allow. Perhaps Eugenie or I should hang a signal flag out of one of these windows."

"Nope." Jess argued. " If Moray ain't dead, yet, he'll surely see it. Wisht I could shake hands with whoever tried for him, too! Wisht it was me, in fact!"

Slim Sherman froze in his tracks, stared and nearly jumped through the roof of the rambling porch that encircled the hunting lodge at the back of the compound. Then he took a deep breath and shook his head. The lean, wiry built dark haired man he saw striding towards him from the stables couldn't be, and wasn't his partner Jess, but Jess' cousin, Cooper. And if the rancher hadn't known that for sure, when he was close enough to be heard, Coop whistled a few bars of 'Green Grow the Lilacs', the recognition signal they'd agreed on hours ago.

''Mebbee I shouldn't have worn these duds of Jess' after all?'' Coop suggested when he reached Slim and they moved to a well hidden spot behind the pump house.

''No, no, you probably confused the heck out these fellows, traipsing around here like that, I'd have to guess.'' Slim answered. ''The ones that didn't take you for my Pard, must've have thought they'd seen a dead man, walking.''

'' They did. Coop admitted. " And it would've almost been fun, if they hadn't started shootin' each other, as soon as they started in quarrelin' about whether I could be Jess, runnin' loose around here, or me, alive and well, or my own ghost! I started out thinking just a few of the fellows up here are crazy. But now I'm thinkin' the lot of them are! And that isn't going to make this anything like easy."

"I wasn't really expecting anything about this to be easy." Slim agreed. "And I'm not sure all these fights going on up here now will make it easier or harder to get Jess out. But, Coop, I was thinking we should be making things just as hard for whoever's inside there as it's been for us… and for Jess, just lately.'' Slim answered, with a studying look at the lodge main doorway and big front windows.

'' Mister Sherman,'' Coop grinned at the tall blond rancher. '' I believe I like the way you think, sir. Let's go at 'it! Let's get it done, for peet's sake!''

''Not without us, coming right behind you, you don't!'' a chorus of voices each man was familiar with by now responded. Slim and Coop turned almost as one man and shook their heads as Bill Hawks, Duke Shannon, Teo Bracamante and Jemmy Singer rushed towards them. Behind that quintet came yet another cadre, made up of Adam Gordonson, Jere and Danny Hoffner, Brody Hamilton, Matty Hearkins, Miller Nash, Ori Hoynes and D'arcy Traherne, all well armed and looking eager for a resolution to all this, if not to a damn good, knock down, drag out fight, by this time.

''I have a better idea, actually.'' Thierry Deveraux announced, stepping out of the shadows of the long, wide verandah.

'' And that would be what, exactly?'' Coop, Jemmy, Slim and Brody demanded, all noting that the elder gentleman was focusing on Coop, just now.

"Well, first of all, what you may not know, gentlemen is that my friend and colleague, Dr. Gabriel Colville is already inside the lodge, as he was called up

here to care for Heydon Palmerston when that "worthy" was shot, earlier today.

"And I made my way up the hill here alongside Gabe, to see if my services were also needed. Thankfully, so far, that has not been the case. And while discussing the present circumstances, it seemed reasonable to both of us that we might engage in a slight subterfuge, to the mutual benefit of your efforts, you see."

" Thierry,m' boy." Adam sighed, having in the past few hours confusion, managed to 'lose JonD' completely. "I'm almost afraid to ask what scheme you and Gabriel have cooked up between you, this time."

'' Well Adam, we weren't exactly sure how the situation might … develop. But as things stand I believe we have a fairly good opening immediately available to us. In fact, it looks very much to me as if, by some highly unlikely chain of events, or some unexpected agency of some sort, young _Mr. Harper_ here, has actually slipped away from his current captors.

So, my thought is to simply take _young Jacob _back inside, … as I so often do, forgetting entirely to lock the door behind me. In that way, you see, there's just that much less chance of gunplay, while the rest of you enter the lodge."

''Reverend Deveraux,'' Slim grinned. '' I believe I like the way you and your colleague both think. So, you go on in there with the Doc, now, _Pard_.'' the rancher then said, turning to wink at Coop.'' You know you shouldn't be wandering around loose when you've been so sick, _Jess_. Daisy would have my head if I let you do that, and you know that too.''

'' Oh, keep your shirt on, will y'?" Coop as Jess protested. '' I just got real good an' tired bein stuck in bed, y' know, Pard?''

'' And you're just going to end up bein' stuck there even longer, if you keep this up, Cowboy.'' Slim chuckled, easily taking on his 'big brother' manner. ''You heard me, march!''

''Oh, yes, sir, Gen'rl Sherman, sir! Oh, yes, sir, sir!'' Coop growled and scowled and winked at his cousin's partner. '' Figure I'm plumb outnumbered, here, ain't I?'


	32. Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE Lodge at Widow's Retreat

''Josiah, I feel terrible! Bring me some wine, at once! '' Heydon Moray said, sitting up with his right arm in a sling, on the divan, 'JonD' had long since evacuated, rousing from his 'treatment' and calling to his Second. '' Josiah, where did that doddering old fool, Colville get off to? _I'm still here_, still in the most appalling pain, and he just goes wandering off? Do you as yet know what villain shot me?

For that matter, where did those two Eastern doctors and their muddled old patient go? I'd also like very much to know if there's been any progress made in locating those bearer-bonds, Jaimey, Phillips or The Widow Pascale and her now-cherished young Texan!"

"Old Doc Gabe went down to see Cook about getting you some broth made up, HP. You're gonna be fine, he said, But you did lose some blood." Ashford answered, bringing Moray a glass of sherry, and starting to answer the Georgian's litany of questions.

"He left some pain meds for you, too. But he was real strict about not mixin' em up in any spirits. So I figure you'll just have to wait on those awhile. As for who shot you, well, there's no way of tellin' that. About a dozen of Solly's boys came at us right up close t' th' main door, at first, all firin' away like they were at some danged kinda shootin' match. Then nearly as many more showed up, sneakin' all around th' lodge, the barn an'the outbuildin's, too. But they didn't seem to have much stayin' power.

Or maybe they're low on supplies down there; cause they didn't hang around long. Or maybe they truly thought we _would harm_ the Widow should they try rushin' the place. More fool they, if they think that. Not one of the boys up here would hurt a hair on her head! An' since you purely forgot t' ask, I'll let you know, none of our boys took more than a scratch in those fights."

" Ah, yes, well, that's comforting to know, surely. And the bonds…. that is, those troublesome Easterners…" Moray sighed, better aware than he wished to be of how _undivided _the Company remained where their devotion to Pascale was concerned.

"Those two docs took the old geezer over across th' hall here, into that library-room. They said they still didn't know if he was gonna make it or not. So, I had Des Kuenle go down and fetch th' Rev, just in case. Now, about them bonds, I figured you wanted that hushed up, so I did th' lookin' for them. So far, nothin'. Probably that old gent left 'em someplace hundreds of miles from here!

An' Cook says Jaimey, Phillips an' The Widow have all been up in the attic since yesterday evenin', HP. Cook says she's been sendin' th' boys downstairs real regular like, for her tea or her soup or her brandy. Cook says The Widow first sent down for pails of hot water, too. But she's not hidin' up there, far as Cook can tell, anyway. Seems as though she just moved that Texan up into her sketchin' loft."

"Damn her!" Moray muttered, having already resentfully learned his Second's

loyalty to Pascale was as unwavering as any of the Company's members. " Well, she remains determined to coddle that young lunatic, it seems. Pails of hot water, you say? My word, has she now started a laundry, a hospice or a bathhouse up there?"

"Wouldn't know that, HP. The Widow don't confide in me none." Joss answered, frowning. He knew well enough by now how Moray truly felt towards the General's Widow.

"The Widow doesn't confide in anyone, these days, it seems!" Moray growled.

"Except for her beloved 'ghosts' and that Texan! Josiah, I want some water immediately and the medicine Gabriel left me. I'm in horrendous pain, and I

don't doubt I'm liable to collapse at any moment! Then I want either Phillips

or Jaimey to come down here, to attend me, at once!

Then I want one of our young gentlemen sent down to the mansion, with the terms I've already devised to arrange Lee Henry's surrender! I find all this watching, all this waiting, all this time, hanging fire quite eneverating! I will wait no longer. Surely our former friends at the mansion know they dare not do anything against us, not while we have the Lady Herself on the premises, now can they?

"HP, I don't think…" Ashford started to say.

" I will not be addressed any longer in that damnably condescending manner!" Moray shouted in a fury. "And you will so instruct the entire band of that, on the instant! My name is Heydon Palmerston Catesby Moray, and I will be addressed correctly. as, Sir, or as Mister or Master Moray or as Mister Moray, Esquire, or not spoken to at all, do you hear?"

"Yes, Sir." Ashford agreed without looking at Moray. He looked at the prosecutor only when he had to, these days.. The longer he was around the Charleston attorney, the less he wished to be. Moray's vast ego, and the outbursts it caused were growing more offensive by the hour, no, by the minute, it seemed. But the time was not right yet, for Moray to learn what his Second actually thought.

"Sir, If I may say so, I don't believe the Widow's brother will allow her to be put at risk in the least. Seems as though, from what I hear lately, the Widow and him were getting all chummy, all over again."

''That's merely a ruse on Lee Henry's part, I'm quite certain, one the Lady may or may not choose to see through, as her own whims and fancies shift and alter. He knows that despite the internal disputes in the Company lately, every man jack in this Command remains entirely devoted to her. Added to that, that fool must be growing quite, quite desperate, with us up here ranged against him, and the Federals all but pouring through the gates there, just below the mansion!'' Moray exclaimed.

'' And those Federals can't make any forcible move against us either, you know, Josiah. Not while they believe … which as it happens is still true, that we hold their young friend from Texas! We're safe as houses up here, you see, with the two of them safely behind our attic doors!''

''Yes, sir.'' Ashford replied. ''I'm sure you're completely right, sir.'' _I hope you're completely wrong, sir,_ he was thinking

''Heydon Palmerston,'' a deep, finely cultured voice called out from the hallway outside Moray's study now. '' Heydon, old friend, I seem to have found … something you've likely been missing.''

Moray groaned, unutterably weary of his 'old friends', and of these continuous interruptions." _I_ am missing absolutely nothing!" He shrilled and stomped out onto the veranda, without looking behind him once.

''What in blue blazes!'' Joss Ashford called out, staring at Coop who stood there in the role of his cousin, blinking and squinting at the big, dark man inside, as the door opened. '' Rev, just where did you find this wanderin' Texan?''

'' Ambling along the verandah as if he was simply out taking the air, in fact, Josiah. He doesn't seem to comprehend where he was or where he's been…Though, speaking of that, where has our Heydon Palmerston got to, this time, if I may enquire?'' Thierry Deveraux asked.

''Back to see th' Lady, I'd have to figure, Reverend. Last I knew, and the _last he_ knew as well, she was keepin' this boy here tucked in bed, up in her loft, in the back part of the attic here… spoon feedin' him and readin' him bedtime stories.'' Joss told him.

Taking that as a cue, Coop took a shuffling step closer to Ashford and peered at him in evident confusion. '' I … I .. like st-stories…'' the scout confided. '' I … I like when th' lady reads 'em…''

''Sure you do, boy. Surely.'' Ashford nodded, wondering how much dope the Texan had been given to muddle him this badly. ''Well, I'm not your danged nursemaid, now am I? Rev, mebbee I could ask you to stay here with th' boy whilst I find out what HP wants done with him, this time!''

''Well, naturally, Josiah. We can hardly leave the boy to go back to his wandering, now can we?'' Deveraux answered, smiling. While Ashford stomped out to find his 'Commander', the kindly minister patted 'Jess' on his shoulder and whispered. '' Fine job of acting you're doing there, Cooper. Been taking lessons from Adam, have you?''

''Night and day, Rev.'' Coop nodded and winked at the elderly doctor. '' Adam says I've got a natural bent for this sort of stuff. But Jemmy thinks I'm just naturally bent.''

''He is now, and always has been!'' Jemmy agreed just as quietly, joining the duo. '' Slim's gone with Adam and the others to search the place. Did Joss give you any idea where to find _our _wandering Texan?''

''Yes, and luckily so. As a matter of fact, Josiah said the Widow's been tending to young Jacob up in the attic, here. No doubt Heydon Palmerston thinks it's not likely we'd think of looking there. And maybe it can be more easily defended than taken. But I'm standing here wondering, now, why would Joss Ashford let just that detail slip? Do we have someone in Moray's band that I don't know about, now?''

'' No, sir. None that I've heard tell of.'' Jemmy answered. '' Mebbee we're just catching old Joss in a bad mood, or maybe Moray's using his infamous knack for unmaking friends up here. Ah, G-d! I hope so!''

''Jemmy, hold up a minute.'' Coop whispered, turning to face his cousin, and hoping the tall mulatto across the room couldn't hear him. '' When I was walkin' over here from the stables, I thought I saw a widow's walk running across the front of this lodge and along the sides, too. That's got to have some doors or windows that could take us into the attic here, right?''

'' It could have, Cooper. Sorry, but you've really got to stay downstairs here and 'be poor muddled Jess' a while longer. But light the heck out the minute you hear Moray coming back here! Got that?'' Jem insisted.

''Jemison, I'm not runnin' away from the man who came after our cousin!'' Coop scowled and shook his head, now. ''And you dang well know it. That's not what I do! Not ever!''

'' I didn't say you'd run _from anyone_, Nathaniel.'' Jemmy answered, just as seriously. '' I guess I wasn't as clear as I could be. One more try, then: The minute you hear Moray coming back into this room, you make sure he sees 'Jess Harper' standing here, confuddled six ways from Sunday. And then you light out, because sure as anything, he'll be right behind you, Cooper and we'll take him! Well, does that suit your Texas sense of damn all heroics any better?''

'' Figure it'll have to do, just this once, Cousin. Whoa! Wait a second, sounds like th' party's startin' without us!'' Coop exclaimed as the sound of men shouting and numerous heavy objects falling came down the main staircase. Both cousins ran into the hallway, just in time to see Adam delivering his patented roundhouse right to one after another, after another 'bad guy'. Those he punched tumbled down the stairs and lay there, either unconscious, or merely groaning. They were joined in short order by the four fellows Slim sent careening over the upstairs banister, by virtue of his combination sharp left jab and strong right hook.

''Jess is in the attic, Slim!'' Coop called out. '' We just got the word from Moray's Second!''

'' How do we get up there fast enough to keep my partner out of even more trouble?'' Slim demanded.

''There's a widow's walk all around three sides of this second floor.'' Adam answered him, before their friends could. '' And it's got to have at least one window or door that opens into that attic, considering how low the lodge roof is.''

''Adam, are you an architect, too?'' Coop and Slim asked now.

'' Only in his copious spare time, boys. Which none of us has any of , especially not Jess, right now!'' Jem answered before his partner could.

'' Get moving! I'll get the rest of the fellows up there after you two! And Cooper… ''

'' You mean, _Jess_, don't you, Cousin?'' the chief scout for the Hale train asked, grinning tiredly. '' _I'm Jess_, an' I've gotta stay here with th' Rev, like y' already told me. You on t'other hand need t' go and get that extra help we might need, and on th' _double quick_, Jemmy!''

'' Yes, sir, General Harper, sir! Yes, sir, sir! And thanks_, Jess._ I think you just gave me exactly, exactly the idea I'll need to pull this off!'' Jem said and took off in the direction he'd last seen Duke Shannon and Bill Hawks headed.


	33. Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO attic at the hunting lodge, Widow's Retreat,

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s.

''Heydon Palmerston, I heard you were dreadfully injured. Are you well, old friend?'' Pascale said evenly, as the Charleston native stepped into her 'sketching loft'.

"I've been better, you could say, Ma'am. And I hope to be quite well again, very soon." Moray answered, as silkily as he could manage with a second dose of morphine only now taking effect on him. "And you, are you quite alright with all the commotion going on about us, the past few days? I was, I'll admit, rather preoccupied with it. So I must have missed your coming to call."

"Oh, no, I was quite remiss in my social obligations there, I must admit. But you see, when I heard that the Company's factions were openly fighting each other, I had to come see to the lad. After all, I've taken full responsibilty for his welfare and his recovery, too, ever since he came here to us." The Widow said, turning around to face him with an expression of what he took to be her genuine remorse.

"You've been exceptionally kind to that young stranger, mum." Moray told her, and then gaped as she came fully into his line of sight. She'd taken a few moments more than usual with her toilette, and her wardrobe when advised by her lookout, Jaimey that the 'master prosecutor' was on his way to this loft. And, as she had not done in weeks, Eugenie Pascale was wearing the silvery-mauve silks her General sent her from China, twenty years ago and more.

The colors lent themselves well to her own coloring and the soft, high, lace collar flattered her face and throat very well. And she'd carefully dressed her light hair, so that it was swept up high off her neck in back, and a few soft tendrils framed her handsome features. This was a rather antique style, one that her own mother wore, and one that Moray had said he favored in the few women he ever spoke of at all.

"Heydon Palmerston, I am so very sorry for any part I may have had in disrupting your tribunal's proceedings. I know they haven't gone quite as you hoped. But you've been doing so excellently well as our master prosecutor. You must be greatly disappointed by the boy's behavior, including my Twin's." Pascale went on, ignoring for now his comment about 'the young stranger'.

''They do behave as though they were still boys in a schoolroom, sometimes, do they not, ma'am?'' Moray asked, focusing his attention now on the still form on the wide hospital cot.

''They do, indeed. But I am so very fatigued by their childishness at this instant. Let us have tea and talk of other more agreeable matters, for at least a while. May we, old friend?'' Pascale asked, well knowing her tone and her choice ofwords would draw his gaze to her, and even disarm him, at least for a moment. She was right, and his wide eyed expression was quite rewarding.

''Why certainly, ma'am. Your servant, as always. Will you sit and speak with me, while I make just a few more notes as regards the subject? Then, I would be more than delighted to take tea with you.'' Moray answered, smiling, she thought, like a cat with a mouthful of canary.

''Oh, surely! Oh, and I meant to tell you, also, Heydon Palmerston, that the General has been very gratified by your work as prosecutor throughout all these difficult days and weeks. And so has Neddy.'' the widow said, feeling strangely as if she did truly know what her cherished, lost boys felt, even as she spoke it's polar opposite.

Now she watched as Moray walked further into the loft. As he did, Pascale stepped slowly, incrementally, almost carelessly closer to the cot. Not for a moment did she allow Moray to move between her and the boy there. Eased by her presence, and her calm assurances, Jess had fallen deeply asleep, and seemed almost unconscious now. So with one finger up to her lips, the Widow led Moray across the loft to her writing table.

''As I am very gratified by their appreciation, ma'am. And as always, by yours. What _did_ you wish to talk about?'' Moray asked.

''What did I… oh, well… '' Pascale started and stopped and let more color rise in her face. '' Well, Heydon Palmerston, I am simply famished for polite onversation! I can't seem to find anyone here who wishes to speak of anything but the Crisis! I'm reaching the point where I fear I'm going to become quite enervated by all of those dire, dreary, dreadful discussions!

And you have always been so clever about knowing all the newest stories,

all the best witticisms and such pleasurable things to talk about.

It's just something about all the really best people coming from Charleston… and thereby knowing all the really best people and families and fashionable … matters. I've always been able to rely upon you, Heydon Palmerston for such amiable pastimes as those. What do you hear from Charleston, these days?''

''Oh, they are bearing up fairly well there, ma'am, all things considered. ''What with the blockade and the Yankees constantly trying to retake the harbor… '' Moray said, as it seemed she was yet more deeply mired in her wartime delusions again. ''The blockade runners seem to be doing quite well at evading those absurd Yankee boats, though. I believe one of them brought in a marvelous shipment of millinery materials, ma'am. I'll write my cousin there and have her send you the latest velvet concoctions from Paris, shall I?''

'' Oh, that would be delightful, Heydon Palmerston! Thank you so very kindly,

dear sir!'' Pascale smiled and nodded, then looked back at the unconscious 'boy'.

''Well, my goodness, it's nearly suppertime, when I thought we'd just had our dinner! And I've not yet rung for Neddy's tea! Neddy, dearest boy, what was it you especially wished to have this evening? Was it some of those very interesting pastries from Savannah, or did you want your favorite shrimp Creole, again? You do get in rather a rut with these things, my dearest boy! Perhaps Heydon Palmerston can suggest something we haven't tried

in a while. Can you, Heydon Palmerston?'' Pascale requested, directing her voice and her gaze to the quiet boy on the cot against the far wall.

She'd determined, and received her twin's wary agreement, that her best and safest ploy now would be to act as if she believed the young Texan was instead their late brother Neddy. That would, the Widow was certain, provide a bizarre sort of protection from Moray for the lad. No matter what else he dared to do, the prosecutor wouldn't dream of harming Pascale's 'dearest darling little brother'. Moray undoubtedly saw himself as far too near his final triumph to take any such risk with the Widow's capricious collaboration.

Moray was watching her very closely now, his icy eyes going from Pascale to theboy to the widow again. So whenever the Charleston native met her gaze now, the widow smiled cheerily, just before looking back at the boy on the cot. She didn't need much more than a glance to tell this particular maneuver was likely to distract Moray from anything else he might have been doing, or attempting.

The widow knew the South Carolina attorney well enough to gauge nearly any reaction he might have to her 'eccentric' behavior. Now that knowledge was serving her purpose better and better by the instant. He liked to believe he had control of any situation presented to him. She was more than glad to allow him that belief, and to present any number of odd situations.

The more he needed to pay attention to what she was saying and doing, the less he could pay heed to the flow of events elsewhere in the compound. Adding a touch of flirtation here and there would take him off balance, the widow also knew. She'd done that more than once with the Charleston native, and he still seemed to take her coquetry at face value. Beyond that, the more deluded Moray believed her to be, the less he would see Pascale as a threat to his developing plans or his escalating ambition

''I believe young master Edward Denys might enjoy some bouillabaisse, ma'am, since he already has a taste for crawfish and other such crustaceans. Your boys likely know a recipe or two. But I surely can suggest some alternative seasonings, ones we use more often in up in Charleston, for example. And I'd be more than happy to do so.'' Moray said and bowed his head.

''Ah! You are a delight, Heydon Palmerston! Please do give some of your notions and recipes to my boys, and I'll be glad to wait here with Neddy while you do so. Or if you wish, I'll just send for Jaimey or Phillips. They're always up to some foolishness or other at this point in the evening if I don't give them some sort of task… '' Pascale nodded, wondering if there was anything the man thought he couldn't advise or improve on.

'' I'd much prefer to remain in your company, ma'am, if I may be allowed to say so. I'll send downstairs for the boys, if you'll permit me to do so, of course.'' Moray grinned contentedly.

''Oh, of course. Neddy, I'll send for the boys, and they'll get some supper ready for us, in no time. You've been doing so well, just lately, my dearest, leaving off those heavy teas. We'll do that again this evening, and have a light, early supper, instead. And our dear Heydon Palmerston, will, I'm sure, regale us with more stories from dear old Charleston. And then, if you'd like, I'll finish reading our dear Mister Dickens' latest novel to you.'' Pascale said, looking down at the sick boy again.

Her scheme was not going to be accomplished in the blink of an eye, but far

more likely at the end of a long, deliberate night's effort. What else might be accomplished in that time, she'd left to her Twin, as promised. They'd said very little to one another, after all, but all that was needed between them.

What might happen next they'd mutually decided not to be distracted by, now. They couldn't take the time from what had to be done for that kind of speculation now. They couldn't take their focus from matters immediately at hand. They couldn't afford to lose this, that was likely their last gambit. None of them could. Pascale nodded to herself and loathing every time she had to do it, smiled back up at Moray.

''Neddy tells me that he's been so glad to have your company these past few days, just as he has so often before, Heydon Palmerston.'' Pascale went on, just as she'd planned. 'He says you've been very kind, very comforting and quiet patient with his foibles and follies. I can't tell you how much I also appreciate all of that, old friend, truly.''

''He's… Young Master Edward Denys has always been … a singular young man, ma'am. '' Moray answered, his attention going back to his notes for a moment, almost as if he wished not to look at her directly. '' He's possessed of a quick and resourceful mind, and a keen curiosity.

And I believe those traits have served him quite well. I'm certain we will see great things from him… He only needs to get back his strength once more, his vigor. There's no reason at all that he shouldn't do so and make us all quite proud, someday.''

''Even more proud than we are, already.'' Pascale amended. ''For we're already immensely proud of you, Neddy. We're all so tremendously fond, and proud of you, everyone is, everyone who's ever known you have felt that. So many persons have deeply loved and cherished you, Neddy.''

''N-Ne-Neddy… '' the boy, shaking and sick and still not wholly conscious on the cot across from the widow Pascale and Moray muttered, echoing and amazingly adding to what he heard. ''N-Neddy… everybody… did… ever'body thought th' world … of … ''

''Hush, now, hush. Please, please, just rest, my dear boy.'' Pascale urged him, walking to stand beside the cot, her wide eyes fixed on the boy laying there. '' All will be well, I avow you. All will be well, again. I promise. Hush now, and try to rest, try to sleep.''

'' Ma'am, if you'll excuse me. He's not truly aware of… '' the Charleston attorney began to say.

''Please, please, Heydon Palmerston! Please do be still a moment!'' the widow insisted, exactly as sharply as she meant to.

''He needs rest and quiet. Please do comply with my wishes in this matter. He can only heal with time and peace and rest, now. That is all that will heal any significant wound or illness, as you surely have learned by this time. The frame, the heart, the mind and the spirit must be allowed whatever calm, whatever ease, and whatever sum of rest we can provide them, if they are ever, ever to heal. I'm quite sure you are well aware of that simple fact, my old friend.''

''Quite so, ma'am. Quite so. Just as you say, ma'am.'' Moray nodded, seeing she would not be gainsaid, at least, not at the moment. He would not win this round.

He would not accomplish his final goal with the boy between them. And the presence of this boy still between himself and The Widow, in more ways

than one was all but driving him mad, Heydon Palmerston Moray of Northumberland Lakes, considered! This had been an exhilarating, perturbing, frustrating and yes, quite maddening two days, all told, Moray considered. His main rival was gone and permanently, in the only way Solomon Howell could have ever been ultimately disposed of. Howell's faction was in evident disarray, as they'd done nothing significant in the way of any counterattack.

In fact, from all Moray's followers had been able to learn, Howell's cohorts may very well have deserted completely, running off at least as far as the local fleshpots! Lee Henry was seemingly suffering some sort of nervous collapse going back and forth from wild defiance of the Company to abject grief for his exceptionally worthless whelp!

And now, this moment, The Widow stood no more than three yards away, alternatively cooing and hissing at him, commanding and acquiescing! And there was the greatest source of his frustration all over again! The damnable lunatic woman kept shifting from one delusion to another! Just when he'd been absolutely sure of either completely controlling or utterly destroying this tiresome, troublesome Texan, The Widow appeared like a silk-clad apparition, and began referring to that damnable young fool as her late, lamented brother!

''Yes, just as I say. Well, I've changed my mind, Neddy. So that you can go back to sleep, while we're waiting on supper, I'll read to you now, my dearest. We were starting the sad, and yet glorious last chapter of Mister Dickens new novel.

Remember, Neddy? We read it together when it appeared in the circulars,

of course. And as soon as it was published I made sure to get you a copy.

Now where did I set that… Heydon Palmerston, I believe I left Mister Dickens

novel … down in the library, just this morning. Would you be a dear, dear fellow and fetch it for me, now?'' Eugenie Pascale asked, focusing more than half her attention on Moray's reactions, while she made sure she kept her gaze on the boy.

''Surely, ma'am. Your servant, ma'am, as always.'' Moray grated out and yet, had no real choice in this instance but to appear amenable to her wishes. The only other option would be some sort of immediate, unfortunately violent physical attack on The Widow. And he disliked that as a strategy, considering the devotion both factions still gave her. Unless he could stage it to seem the act of the sick boy, of course… And again, there wasn't much likelihood such a ruse would succeed. That being clearly understood, the Charleston attorney bowed stiffly and took his leave.

''If you'll excuse me again for only a moment, Dear Lady, I'll find your novel and …then go see what's keeping those … what's keeping Neddy's supper.'' Moray said and with a disgusted, aghast, frustrated frown that greatly pleased the Widow, left the room.

''Thank you. Thank you, kindly, Dear Sir.'' Pascale smiled flirtatiously and dipped her head.


	34. Chapter 33

CHAPTER CHAPTER THIRTY THREE Widow's Retreat, the main house

Lee Henry Morrissey waited at the mansion, some ten yards below the lodge as long as he could stand to wait. Only his son's presence and Neddy's presence of mind in keeping his father's attention held the elder Morrissey there most of past night and on into this morning. Now it was just past midday and both men were eager to be doing something that might help end their six year nightmare at long last. And that was where Mort Corey, Chris Hale's and Thomas Macquillan's renowned patience and growing friendship, added to that of Gabriel Colville and Thierry Deveraux now came into play.

" There isn't a man on this compound who will allow _Heydon Palmerston, or anyone_ to harm Eugenie Isabelle in the least, Lee Henry." Colville was advising his long time patient and friend.

"No, Gabe, they won't, _if any one_ of them gains access to that attic!" Lee Henry agreed.

"And from what you've told me has been going on with your sister and my friend Jess, he'll be defending her with everything he's got, and anything that may come to hand, as well." Corey added.

"All I know is he's reportedly rather infatuated with Eugenie." Morrissey sighed. "And he wouldn't be the first, although I greatly fear he will be the last of her scores and dozens of … suitors. I sincerely hope we find them both alive and well.

"And I'm sure that with my young friends all searching up there, including Jess' two cousins, that's exactly what we will find." Chris offered.

"Yes, well, Mr. Hale, I'm well aware that your scout was also attacked by … by my Command. I was glad to hear he's well recovered, very glad indeed. My son also told me last night that despite that both Mr. Smith and yourself have greatly befriended him, and for that I am immensely grateful, sir." Lee Henry said, already liking the Glousterman almost as much as his son had predicted he would.

For myself, I know I must face Justice as the Company's erstwhile Commander. And I will be glad to answer for all of my deeds, I assure you. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I'll mind that a bit, as long as _I am there_ to see Heydon Moray hung for the murder of my friend Solomon, and of my young younger brother! However, I am also very much afraid I shall have to add my dearest Twin to the list of his victims if we do not act together and with some celerity in this last … endeavor."

''And I agree. If we're going to get our friends away from your… former ally and catch him and his friends all at once, we have to work together. That being true, I'll gather my troops, General Morrissey and you go ahead and gather yours together.'' Mac Macquillan suggested.

''Thank you for that, Sir… But I'm well and truly retired, now, for which I truly do thank G-d.'' Lee Henry smiled and then found himself surprised again as Macquillan began gesturing to, rather than calling up the men on his 'roster. With chagrin on some faces and relief on others, Matty Hearkins, Kiery Tanner, Brody Hamilton, Rafe Tierney, D'arcy Traherne, Chris Phillipsen, Mickey Stewart, Miller Nash, Giles Boudin, his brother Andre, 'Thierry' Deveraux, and his son Nolan, as well as old Gabriel Colville all walked over and 'reported in' to the senior agent from Boston.

'' Well, Thierry, I suppose I should have guessed you'd do your best to defuse this nightmare for us.'' Morrissey told the balding, dark eyed sometime chaplain to the Company and in earlier times, to Napier Pascale's own regiment as well.

'' You and your twin didn't leave me much choice in the matter, Lee Henry. I was loath to sit back and let the widow and brother in law of my old Commanding General and friend utterly destroy themselves and so many others. But the truth is, it took both Giles and Gabriel here, to convince me that more direct action was truly called for. I hope you will understand, old friend, that we considered we were acting for you, not against you.''

'' I believe I do, old friend. And I'm far more concerned for Eugenie, just now than I am or ever have been for myself, you know.'' Lee Henry told them all.

''Surely. Well, I think we can at least relieve some of your worry, old friend.''

Giles Boudin offered. ''Unless our friend Thomas here, our Boston Brahmin, thinks otherwise. I believe we should let Lee Henry know what else we have in the works, as regards the rescue of both young Jacob, that is, Mr. Harper, and the Widow, along with the capture of the insidious Mr. Moray. Thomas?''

''Well, technically, I believe I should now to defer to our friend, Doctor Colville. He's got all the seniority in the Service that anyone could ever wish for. What say you, sir?'' Mac turned to ask the oldest member of the team, including Adam.

'' I say that my old friend, Lee Henry, the son of my late friend Edward Denys, can be trusted to hell and back once he's given his solemn word on any matter. '' Colville smiled. '' And that he's done. So for pity's sake, let the man know what we're up to!''

''Thank you, Gabriel, but if you don't mind I have a different question I'd very much like the answer to, even before we continue with the present … matter.

And it may seem like nothing more than foolish curiosity, but I can't seem to comprehend how a man _I know_ was born and raised in old Atlanta could hold seniority over a roomful of Federals!'' Lee Henry demanded.

''Ah, now there, there you have me, Lee Henry.'' Colville smiled again, clapping one hand on each of the Louisianan's shoulders. '' I was born in Atlanta, surely. And we lived in that old jewel of a Southern city until I was almost seven. But then with one thing and another changing in the larger world, and in my family, m' Daddy died. And momma took us all up to live and go to school in Frederick, Maryland, where her people came from. Now, Lee Henry, boy, come sit down a moment and we'll map this out for you. Then, we'd better pick that map on up and put it into action!''


	35. Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR attic loft in a hunting lodge, at Widow's Retreat,

outside Pine Bluffs, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

As Pascale hoped, and as she'd half expected, Moray was gone on his 'errands for her' quite a bit longer than either would have normally taken. No doubt the former prosecutor was busy at whatever means he might still have to defend himself and his steadily shrinking 'Command'. No doubt he would fight tooth and nail to protect himself and his ill gotten assets, and no one else. Pascale only hoped Moray wouldn't decide on some means of escape, rather than coming back to confronther at least once more. Whatever happened after that, as long as 'the boy' she'd taken charge of once more was safe and speeding home, Eugenie Pascale found she scarcely cared.

For ten years and a little more, she'd fought to deny her beloved husband was dead, by his own hand. Phillips Napier Pascale died on April 3, 1865, as Richmond fell to Union forces at last. That her heroic major general of cavalry volunteers wasn't able to face defeat or imprisonment never surprised his devoted spouse. That he'd not come home to her first, left her bitterly shocked, to this day.

For six years she'd battled the very idea that her dearest young brother might have taken his own life, as well. Now she knew she'd at least been right to wage that struggle. Now she knew 'her dearest darling Neddy' had not been defeated by any weakness of character or loss of pride. That he'd in fact been murdered, while less than a quarter mile from their home, left her terribly angry, now.

For much of that time she'd indulged in fancies and fantasies, most of which she'd convinced others she reveled in, still, some of which Pascale knew she'd almost been able to believe, at times. Only the brightest memories and dearest dreams were allowed access to her imagination for hours, for days, for weeks and months at a time. Only the bitterest, most furious desires for vengeance, only the angriest, coldest longings for what she'd lost to be repaid in kind were permitted to 'visit' her thoughts for years.

For all of that time, most of those who saw her, heard her or thought they knew Pascale also 'knew' she'd gone utterly mad. And as much as she'd once feared she might be, as much as she once nearly wished for it, that odd surcease had never been hers, not entirely. She'd 'visited, memorized, and even sometimes hid in that parish' but never dwelt therein. Her despair, vengeance, bitter loneliness and her remembered love somehow extraordinarily combined to hold her back from those depths.

Now she set all that well aside. Now she released her loving, adored, hovering spirits, and laid all of her ghosts. And now, astonishingly, they seemed closer than ever they had for years. But now she would keep one and only one solemn promise. Whatever she need do, she would do now, to keep it. And that promise she'd made not to her heart's own dearest love, not to her dearest darling, not toher dearest Twin, but to a 'young stranger'. Now that young stranger was rousing from a fitful sleep, and the Widow turned back from her musings to watch him open his bright blue eyes.

"Well, good evening." Pascale smiled, and took back her place by his bed.

Jess stared at her, knowing he shouldn't. But she looked as if something lit her from within. She looked amazing and completely, wonderfully lovely. And he guessed that was the last thing she needed him to be saying to her now. Maybe he shouldn't say anything at all. Yeah, that was probably his best bet. But try as he might, he coldn't seem to help letting loose with the first question that came to his bleary mind.

"Are… are you… real? Are you really… here, now?" Jess blurted and felt his face growing hot but not with a fever.

"I am. I am entirely guilty on both charges, young sir Knight." The Widow nodded, smiling again in that way that warmed him clear through. "And I'm also guilty of being away from your side far too much and too long while you were ill. I do beg your pardon. I've already sworn not to leave you alone again. And I shan't."

"And that… Moray… is he gone?" The young Texan asked. "He didn't harm you, did he? 'Cause if he did…"

"He did not and will not harm me, my true, brave young Knight." Pascale shook her head, which Jess loved as it made the curls dance about the sides of her face. "And he's apparently once more occupied elsewhere, for a time. We can talk, or … no, I do think you're still too wearied for that. I'll read to you, but from something other than Mr. Dickens."

"I … like your… reading." Jess agreed, thinking she could read old schoolbooks or newsprint to him and he wouldn't care.

'' I've always loved reading aloud. That was something else I shared with Neddy… Now, where … yes, here is the other portion of your friend Aaron's journal I've been wanting to share with you, my lad. It seems Sgt. Caulder wrote at some length about another one of his cohort in those days, one of his friends from east Texas, from one of the oldest Spanish towns there…

That young man was not yet sixteen years old when he enlisted in the Eighth

Texas cavalry, as it turned out. Like a great many other boys that spring, this very determined lad falsified his age, in order to join the fighting 'before the Ball could get over'. He wasn't to turn sixteen until the end of July that year, as Aaron Caulder and my brother Neddy only found out, much, much later.'' the Widow went on.

'' one of th' oldest towns… '' Jess echoed, furrowing his brow with a new, abrupt set of worries.'' an' this boy, he turned sixteen, end of July, you say?''

'' That's right. That's what young Caulder noted. And there's more. This boy was just as scrawny and as scrappy, on first sight, as a rained on bantam rooster. He had a mop of thick, black, curly hair and no beard at all yet, to take any note of. But woe betide the man or boy who cracked wise about the former, or made too much of the latter.

They'd soon find themselves flattened to the nearest patch of ground, put there by that same east Texas whirlwind, with one heck of a right cross to his name, and a sharp left jab to match it. Onliest thing was, in the next instant, they'd find themselves pulled up again by that same whirlwind and carefully checked over for 'any hurt they might've took, fallin down like that'!

And this same boy always was the first to note that he had a black-Irish temper that bore watching, and watching out for. He said he was raised up to never suffer cheats, liars or fools gladly. And he said that low tolerance might get him ' in Dutch' from time to time, but usually for all the right reasons.

But what really charmed the boys, and no few of the girls and ladies, was not only that bright eyed, wide as the Braxos grin he could get all over his face, but the way he'd come off all shy with folks he didn't know. That boy could charm his way into and out of all sorts of chaos, mayhem and just plain catastrophes with either that grin or that head down, lookin up shy glance he owned … And he did so, regular.

Now bein' from east Texas, it was always a given that boy could shoot, and hunt , scout and track like the wildest Injun a body could wish for. We none of us were that much surprised either to find he could ride as if he were born forkin' a mount of one kind or another, and likely a wild one. The boy would have a fine time with newer recruits, tryin his level best to make them believe that was exactly how he got birthed, for real, too.

And of course, the boy could always take on the worst brute of a new mount he was given and end up with the creature ridin' easy as a danged velveteen davenport! But what seemed to surprise that boy as much or more than the rest of us, was how he downright took to soldierin'… and all the Army foofarah that rode alongside it.

Now, it wasn't ever that th' ol boy, as we loved to call him, to rile him, liked the killin' anymore than the rest of the boys. None but the worst blood-crazed boys ever took to that… We couldn't, not when it got clearer and surer all the time, we were killin' and maimin' fellas, men and boys just like us!

And what this boy took to wasn't so much the danged drillin' and such… Seemed as though he just glommed onta the whole, entire idea of bein' part of a unit, part of H Company, part of the Rangers… An' knowin' the hard way he'd lost so much of his kin… we could pretty much figure how he could feel that way.

But what I want to note down, and remember… and maybe, someday, jibe the boy about is what surprised most folks that got to know him back in those days. He had that temper, and he let it ride him and somethin' fierce, sometimes. Jess had a real fine bunch of reasons to be mad at the world, and take that mad out on just about anybody that crossed him. But that ol' boy had somewhere, somehow learned to rein that temper and that mad-on, a lot better and more often than a lot of the fellas could. And whilst I knew him, he never let onct loose of that black Irish ragin' except where and when it was well and truly called for.

As a matter of fact, seems as though one or two of the boys asked Jess how he checked it that way. And as I can best recall now, that boy said when he needed to know just that, more than ever, somebody he thought the world and all of showed him how she fought her own 'Apollyon', by which she meant, her own bent towards getting angry. He said he never knew how to thank her for that, or for how she forgave the way he acted, the way he talked at his 'real bad times'. But he said, when he asked her how he could repay that… his mother's sister told him, just his wanting to keep up that struggle, just his asking to come home again, and let her care for him, was all she'd ever need to know or hear, or have from him.

And Neddy, surprising all of us boys, including that boy, seemed to see the way he fought that fight, along with the one we were fightin' together. And Neddy always said to me, anyway that he truly cherished and honored the younger boy for just that struggle. And the boy I'm talking about, surprising all of us, including Neddy, seemed to see the way that Neddy wanted to be part of the Rangers, part of that bigger fight, and part of H Company, especially, just as much as he did. And that east Texas boy, he told me, when he'd just about given up arguin' with Neddy, whether or no Neddy would cart him off to a hospital inside Atlanta, that he'd never before known or expected to find such a friend so far from home. He had dozens and scores of cousins back to home, we all did, he said.

And some of them had been real close friends, growin' up together, so in a way, the boy expected to help them out of any trouble they got into, and to have their help in turn as needed. But not Neddy, who was no sort of kin, not an old schoolmate, not even an east Texas neighbor, he was a rich man's son from N'Orlins.

See, that boy, that east Texas whirlwind, took some real bad hurt in one of the last fire-fights that September, he took a wound to his upper chest that broke his collarbone, and another that had his left leg above the knee, bunged up something awful. And he was comin' down with bad fever. Well, none of us, not that we knew of in the whole, entire regiment, maybe the whole danged Army had the supplies or medicines our wounded fellas needed.

And goin into Atlanta meant surrender, meant capture, meant G-d alone knew what Yankee prison a fella could wind up at, if what we heard was true and no paroles were bein taken any more, that fall. But Neddy plumb wouldn't take any argument on it. He took me an' that boy to a Yankee r'cievin' hospital and saw him patched up there. I know, cos I was nearly as bunged up and went on in with 'em. And only when Neddy was sure Jess Harper an me would likely be okay, did he take the time to mention he'd got hurt himself.'' Pascale finished reading and turned her gaze back to the boy on the cot.

'' Dang that ol' Aaron anyways!'' Jess whispered, frowning. ''What'd he go an' write all that nonsense 'bout _me_, for?''

''Because, I'd have to suppose he wanted to remember the staunch young friend he had, at a time when friendships mattered as much or more than kinship.'' The Widow told him.

'' Well, my friend Aaron got a lot of that wrong… the parts about me an' my temper… But he got it right… on that part …where Neddy… took a real bad hurt, while we were fightin' around Atlanta.'' Jess said watching her face grow somber

once again.

''Only he did his level best t' keep it quiet. He was just too …darn busy, you see, getting me an' ol' Aaron seen to. Never mind getting seen to by that time meant th' hospitals in the city… an' meant th' Yankees… That's what I meant… sayin' Neddy saved my life, ma'am. Cos that's just what he did, back then. 'M sorry I … I'm so awfully sorry I didn't return the favor.''

'' Ah, now that I know!'' the Widow nodded. ''And I know now, which I'm ashamed to say I didn't, that my brother did his best for all his friends… always. He did his very best for everyone … except perhaps himself… That … was a great part of my brother's spirit… And, I long feared, the major part of his … doom. I know the truth of that, as well, from you, yourself and all these sheets of paper!

I know now precisely what, specifically who 'doomed' my Neddy… And I am resolved, just as I have been all these years… to exact fair recompense for the wrongs done him! You've nothing more to fear from me, my dear young Jacob. And I shan't ask you to take part in what I must do now, for my own peace and for my Neddy's. No, no, that's not your duty here.'' Eugenie Pascale shook her head now, the soft curls around her face almost dancing.

''Aaron Caulder, and you, young Jacob have given me … in an extraordinary way … You've given me back my lost brother. You've done so yourself, by reminding me so much of Neddy… What he was truly, not what I've built up as part myth and part imagination. And Sergeant Caulder … yes, I almost think he would be glad I know what he wrote about my brother… what he wrote in his journals and … letters… ''

''Aaron was a great one for keepin' his old journals… A mortal lot of th' boys begun t' do that… I never seemed t' …'' Jess told her, rubbing his left hand through his hair. '' But … figure I'm kinda worn out… just now… I don't rightly understand… An' that other fellow… that angry fellow, who's been here… Just lately I can hardly make heads or tails of what he's jawin' about. Just he seems t' be … ''

A soft knock at the loft entryway sounded the alarm Pascale had been expecting all this while.

"He's coming back.'' The Widow exclaimed softly. '' Now, as I said before, Jacob, you need pay no heed at all to what I do or say as regards Heydon Palmerston… that angry fellow is a very apt description, truly. How he's chosen to display his anger, his need for recompense and vengeance… that's another matter entirely.

Please, do not involve yourself any further in conversation with our 'master prosecutor'. I came back expressly to make sure of your safety and … of my own dealings with him. Please, promise me you will not intervene, young Jacob. Please, my dear young sir, your word on that?''

''My word on that.'' Jess nodded, uneasy with the promise. He couldn't deny her, though. She'd come back to see to his safety, once again, and he couldn't deny he still loved her, widowed or otherwise. She was the best part of what seemed a painful, clouded nightmare to him. She was stronger, wiser, fierier and more beautiful than he could put into words.

''I do most sincerely thank you, kind young sir.'' Pascale said, and it seemed to Jess she was almost grinning.


	36. Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

"I'm glad to say I've finally located your servants, our supper, and your novel, ma'am." Moray said, swallowing a stiff frown as Jaimey followed him into the loft, laden down with a tray the size of a small handcart.

Phillips was right behind his brother, carrying a table the size of a small buckboard, and two chairs.

"Well, we can enjoy our supper over there by the window, boys." Pascale nodded. as the young Texan actually began to nod off. Jess wanted to fight sleeping, but her voice was the most soothing music he knew these days. And nothing could keep his eyes open a moment longer.

" My dear lad is soundly asleep, so we'll just keep a bowl wrapped up warmly for him. I'm quite concerned about it. He doesn't seem able to sleep for more than an hour or two at one stretch. And in this case, that should do quite well, I believe."

''You're being very gracious, still, to this young …stranger, ma'am.'' Moray probed now, to see how she'd react.

''This young stranger _greatly befriended_ our dearest Neddy during the Conflict and was terribly grieved and shocked to hear of my brother's passing. I thought differently once, as you well know. But I was …misguided. And so I know I am indebted to him. _And I pay my debts,_ always, just as I was brought up to do, Heydon Palmerston. Of course, true Southrons have always been brought up with those same high principles, wouldn't you agree, old friend?'' The Widow asked him dropping for now her 'delusion' that Jess was her lost brother.

''Oh, indubitably, ma'am.'' Moray agreed, wondering where she was going with this talk of debts and payments. ''Any gently bred Southron would be far too dreadfully ashamed to do otherwise, where a debt of any kind is involved, ma'am.''

''Yes, I knew you'd agree on that point, Heydon Palmerston. You've always had such fine, such noble principles, learned at your dearest father's knee, I don't doubt.'' Pascale answered, thinking she must have hit the nerve she was seeking, when Moray hissed and fell abruptly silent.

''My maternal grandfather's knee, truth be told, ma'am.'' Moray grated, realizing the Widow knew that his 'dearest father' had ruined that side of the family, with shady business dealings, embezzling and then absconding with numerous other person's monies. ''Grand poppa always taught me to always take great care in all my business affairs, ma'am, very great care that I should bring no notoriety or scandal to my friends or family back in Charleston.''

'' Well then he would surely be terribly pleased with all you've accomplished, Dear Sir, never once staining his proud, old heritage or character.'' The Widow said, smiling. _No, never once, since during the Conflict you made careful use of assumed names in your filthy, treacherous profiteering! _She thought, hiding her anger and loathing for the Charleston native behind a wide eyed gaze of admiration.

''Family meant a great deal in the Old South, ma'am. I'm not sure it does

in these terribly altered times we live in now.'' Moray shrugged. '' And of course, it was always a matter of great pride with me, to have the friendship and support of your late father, and the General. I never could have made the strides I have without their kindness and their influence, being a veritable stranger to the Delta when I came there as a young lad, myself. But surely it must sadden you far too much these days to speak of our old happier times, ma'am.''

'' No, no. Quite the contrary. I find those memories a great comfort, just lately.'' Pascale told him, meaning every word. '' After all, at least back then I had my Poppa, my heart's own dearest love, my Napier and my dearest, darling little brother, Neddy still with me. So I find I love to think on those days, more and more, Heydon Palmerston.

And just as you said, the times we find ourselves in now, are so awfully changed… almost past enduring. We've lost so much, so many beloved friends, kin and places we shall never see again this side of Glory! We've lost the world we grew up in, really. I'm sure you miss that world as much as I do, don't you?''

''I don't allow myself to, ma'am.'' Moray told her, lying. '' I find it no comfort to think on what was and can never be again. It's simply not my nature. And, well, I must admit to you, not all my memories are happy, from those days. I can't help recalling, mum, for example that I lost my suit, when you wed the General. And I nearly lost my friendship with your father and brothers over it. I was… a young fool then, I suppose, and reacted perhaps, too strongly to my disappointments.''

'' Ah, now you are flattering me, aren't you, old friend?'' The Widow answered, shaking her head and offering him her best former-debutante's simper. '' After all, the whole Delta knew my Poppa and Napier's wanted us matched, practically from our cradles! Fortunately for me, unlike so many other girls of my age, I fell profoundly in love with the very man my family wished me to marry. And even more luckily, my Napier loved me immediately, as well.

That didn't happen very often, in those days. No, far more frequently, the girls I knew and schooled with were only fortunate when they grew to love and be loved by the spouses their parents intended for them. But surely, Heydon Palmerston, I'm very sure there were any number of belles setting their caps with you in mind as the feather they wanted to adorn them!'' _And any number of beaus you much preferred to adorn the arms of, damn you, Sir! _

'' I saw only one I wanted, at that time, if you'll pardon my saying.'' Moray answered, and truthfully this time. _And you_ _are even more a fool than I think if you've never guessed that one was your dearest darling little brother!_

''Neddy,'' Pascale said, startling her 'master prosecutor' badly. '' Neddy always admired you back then, my friend. He so greatly appreciated and respected you. I daresay my dearest boy was too self conscious to tell you that himself. He could be so painfully shy, at times. He didn't seem to know what high regard his friends and family held him in at all, wouldn't you agree with my assessment?''

'' Young Master Edward Denys Augustin had a very fine and proper, natural modesty, ma'am. There never was a trace of egotism in him. In fact, I recall remarking that he was surely the most unassuming young gentleman in all N'Orleans. That seems to have … forgive me for touching on what is surely a sore point, mum.

But that seems to have been a contributing factor in his camaraderie with … those young Texans, including your young charge there. The young gentleman never seemed to note the manifest differences between them.'' Moray told her, coming as close as he ever had to speaking his true mind about her brother.

''I daresay Neddy didn't wish to. And then of course, there were those other, darker reasons for my own dearest Neddy's deep self-doubts and misgivings. With the best will in the world, Poppa and Lee Henry and I were never able to keep Neddy from hearing every vile scrap of gossip in the Parish!

I can only suppose he confided in you about the matter, then, as his father and his brother in law's good and trusted friend, Heydon Palmerston.'' The Widow probed, lowering her gaze, as if ashamed, and wondering how or if her first line of bait would be taken.

''In me, ma'am?'' Moray asked, giving her every show of confused concern now. _Surely her doting father, husband and twin brother would have kept those stories from her! And even if she heard that deliciously horrid bit of gossip, the Lady has no means whatever of knowing I repeated it to 'her own Neddy'! She couldn't know that! She can't have found it out! It's entirely out of the question! Caulder's papers and journals have never turned up in any of our sorties or endeavors! I know, as I'm the only one who's been searching for them! _

''Yes, Heydon Palmerston, I have found myself hoping very much indeed that my own dearest boy found a stalwart friend and confidant, in you. He wrote me, as you may not know, on more than one occasion saying you embodied for him the man of the world he wished to be, so.'' Pascale said, lying outright. '' So it seemed to me, he might have … brought that old trouble to you… He didn't , then? Neddy didn't tell you the appalling family gossip he learned of, when the Conflict had barely started?''

''No, ma'am. And I surely wish he had been able to confide his troubles in me, I do assure you.'' Moray lied. ''But the well established families in the old South always seemed to win the envy and malice of lesser spirits, don't you agree, Dear Lady?''

_My family surely won your spite and envy, Dear Sir! She thought. And what we ever did to win it to this extent, I can't begin to grasp! Ah, how I'd like to strike you dead where you stand for what you've done to me and mine, you monster! And how I'd love to lie down dead in the next instant, having finally achieved some small measure of Justice! I can't though, I promised my Dearest Twin I'd buy him as much time as humanly possible, with which to confront and destroy our enemy and his forces in detail! _

Letting her rage out in sobbing now, The Widow leaned against her chair and let her tears flow, for Neddy, for Lee Henry, Napier, for their shattered world and her failings to them. But misdirection and tumult were her mortal weapons in this endeavor, and so Eugenie Pascale turned back to them, and turned her wide, bright gaze on the boy asleep behind her.

''Oh, Neddy, my dearest, dearest, darling boy! That you should have heard or worse, believed such terrible calumnies about our dearest Poppa!'' She stage-whispered, grasping the boy's left hand and bowing to kiss it. ''And how can I even broach this awful matter with you now, my darling boy, when I know how it will further wound and weaken your shining spirit?

You have our _maman's _bright, tender, but all too fragile essence, Neddy dearest! And I can't tell you how often Poppa, Lee Henry, Napier and I were gladdened, even in our grieving for her, knowing she never lived to hear these … libels! Neddy, our brother Lee Henry read the Law, well before the Conflict ever started. And he assures me, darling, that the truth, which we surely have on our side, is an absolute defense against slander!

So you must … when you're strong enough, finally hear and absolutely believe me, my dearest! _There is no truth whatever_ to that vicious old story, Neddy! You and I are _full siblings,_ my darling, _we have the same Poppa_ _and maman_! We are not and never could have been mother and child!''

Moray stood transfixed in front of the Widow, now. He'd seen her shift from reality to delusion in a heartbeat before now. He'd heard her move without blinking an eye from the raging of a maddened lioness to the purring of a cream-fed cat. But this was something new. He'd known she was stronger in some ways than any other woman of his acquaintance. He'd known she could look on horrors and show not the least reaction, much less any remorse or revulsion. But this whispered revelation amazed the man who'd fed it to and watched it destroy her younger brother. And he wasn't sure if, or how he should respond. Nor did she give him time to.

''Ah, you're still here, Dear Sir.'' Pascale said, lifting her wide gaze up to his stare. '' Have the boys not brought up Neddy's supper, yet?''

''No, ma'am. Perhaps, as much as I hate to leave you so distraught, I should go back down and see what could possibly be delaying them?'' the prosecutor asked, wondering how she could have forgotten the 'procession' he'd been part of moments ago.

''No, please don't. My darling's managing a nap, just now. And I would have him get all the rest he can, preparatory to our long trip home to N'Olins. I did mention we'd be leaving just as soon as my Neddy can safely travel?'' The Widow asked, watching him intently all the while she smiled confusedly at him.

'' I believe so, yes, ma'am. You've wanted for some time now to see the young Master home once more. But have his doctors offered any opinion as to when he might make such an arduous journey?'' Moray asked.

'' Oh, they're not even certain he can do so at any time whatsoever!'' Pascale told him. '' They're all such gloomy, morbid old crows, you know! I'm almost out of patience with dear old Gabriel, and Thierry's hardly any better! Our old friend, Doctor Colville on the one hand, tells me Neddy must keep his bed a good six months or more, before attempting any exertion, _if then, if ever!_ And our old pastor, Reverend Deveraux on the other looks and speaks as if he's preparing to offer Last Rites to Neddy at any moment!''

'' Well, '' Moray replied, shrugging and swallowing a laugh that would surely anger her further. '' when one considers the state of the young master's health… when he arrived here, ma'am… ''

''When I consider the state of the boy's health when he arrived here with us,

Heydon Palmerston,'' The Widow answered, glaring at him. '' I find myself thoroughly delighted and encouraged by his progress! And if you are of a mind to voice the same sort of bleak prognoses and melancholic cautions I will thank you to leave my brother to my care once more and tend to your other … surely very crucial dealings!''

Moray couldn't do that now, and they both knew it. He knew his own men were spreading down and across the compound now to spy out whatever Lee Henry might be up to. He guessed the Federal lawmen they had all been worriedly expecting were near, or on the premises as well, leaving him not one but two threats to deal with. Pascale knew her brother was preparing to assault the lodge, hoping not to do so until she'd persuaded Moray to return the young Texan to her custody. And she guessed, knowing her twin better than any other living person, that he would broker whatever agreement he could with the 'Unionists' that would best safeguard young Harper and his sister.

''Mum, if I've offended you, I would most profoundly wish to make my deepest apologies.'' The Charleston jurist told her.

'' But I will not, nor I cannot leave you unguarded up here, when we all know the so called Yankee authorities may be upon us at any hour. No more, I'd have to imagine than you would leave young Master Edward Denys in these circumstances, no more than I would leave him here, myself, sick and helpless against our long time foes.''

''You would not leave my dearest boy to fall into enemy hands, old friend?'' The Widow asked, inwardly gleeful as Moray took the bait she'd been dangling for him, the past quarter of an hour. ''You would never leave a trusting, helpless invalided friend in any kind of danger? Nor would you dishonor your long friendship with and support by my father, my

brothers and my husband, by leaving us subject to slurs, calumnies, misapprehensions and outright lies, is that what you are saying?''

'' Naturally, ma'am no true-hearted, well bred, Genuine Southron Gentleman would do any such thing.'' Moray answered, pleased with himself for misdirecting the question.

''No, no such actual gentleman from any corner of the globe would act in that fashion towards a lady or another gentleman of their closest association. Indeed, I cannot think that any truly gently bred man would even dream of a betrayal such as that, accorded to another of their own class, _or indeed to any other human being_.'' Pascale said, fighting an urge to laugh at the way he neglected to answer. But she got the response she wanted when Moray stiffened and glanced coldly at the boy sleeping on the cot behind her.

''Mrs. Pascale, ma'am, surely you are as well aware _as anyone_ that there

are distinct, unambiguous differences between members of our society's different levels.'' the former prosecutor added. ''You are a Southron gentlewoman, after all! You were raised to womanhood in the world we lost to the Yankee's bloody war machine! You are the daughter, granddaughter and great granddaughter of men who adhered fully to the South's peculiar institution, ma'am. And all that being true, you certainly know the difference between a genteel Southron and a Yankee wage slave or any other type of damnable purportedly freed darky! ''

''I do, indeed, just as you say, Heydon Palmerston. The former is a person who has usually inherited some substantial resources from his or her ancestors and therefore has never earned a penny by their own efforts. The latter are persons, sometimes of color, sometimes not, who in many cases, do the labor which serves to enrich the former. If you can point out any other truly substantive differences, Dear Sir, I should be quite curious to hear what they are. Aside from that, as I believe a great many of us learned, during or following the Conflict, both the latter and the former are sapient, living, human beings, equally possessed of minds and spirits, hearts and limbs and all other organs and physical properties necessary to their existence.

Both suffer, learn and bleed and die, in their time. Both equally require sustenance and shelter, fire, air and water. Both are equally subject to illness, maiming, imprisonment, hatred, love, friendship, loneliness, cruelty, and yes, even madness before their deaths.'' The Widow said, wordlessly enjoying the manner in which her brief polemic made Moray's temper rise.

''I am neither a philosopher nor a poet, ma'am, therefore I daresay I could not express myself well on such matters. I only know what I was raised to believe from boyhood: And that is that certain persons are known to be the better of others by their nature, their class, and their condition.'' Moray answered. ''We are made in that way by the Hand of the Deity. It's simply the way of the world, and always has been. On occasion we see a wastrel, or an exceptional man who seems to disprove those concepts by sinking below or rising above his state at birth. However, in my observation and experience, ma'am, in each of those cases, it is merely the innate worth given by their Creator, or the lack thereof that we find being so vividly demonstrated.''

_Well, Heydon Palmerston,_ Pascale thought. _I was afraid you were traveling even further out on a tangent from where I need you now. But you've carried yourself and your specious arguments completely around and back to my own, again. _

''Yes, I've heard that argument more than once before now.'' The Widow answered. '' My own thoughts on the subject were, I confess, largely formed by listening to my dearest Neddy's egalitarian ideals. And of course there were always those in old N'Olins who made clear their belief that certain members of the wealthy class went out of their way to prove they were not worthy of that place. Coming from old money as both you and I do, you've surely encountered that sort of .. backwards snobbery from those less fortunate than we. Have you not?''

Once more Moray bristled and once more Pascale hid her smiling reaction. He no more came from 'old money' in Charleston than her young charge had done in Texas. And just as she expected, once again the prosecutor dodged her question, only to take the tangent she most wished he would.

'' Oh, yes, I seem to remember, ma'am. Young master Edward Denys was indeed an ardent advocate of all such democratic thinking.'' Moray frowned. '' He was quite the fiery young idealist, when we met at the General's home.''

''And he remained so, especially when he came to know his young comrades

from Texas. Neddy admires their wild, free ways of thought and of … being so tremendously. He wrote me so often, about the ways in which the differences between their young lives and the sheltered, almost cloistered world he'd known raised his spirit and opened his eyes to the wider world.'' Pascale said.

'' But Dear Lady, those differences, the wide variance between your dear brother and those same wild, uncontrolled young hooligans… '' Moray said and made a great show of hesitating.

'' What were you going to say, Dear Sir?'' the Widow demanded he tell her.

'' They took your brother from you, mum!'' the prosecutor insisted. ''They took him into their heedless way of soldiering, of thinking and of living … never to return to N'Orleans, or to his family … Umm, that is, of course he's…. here now… ma'am… But they nearly ruined the lad, as you surely understand by now! They were the worst companions, the worst sort of reckless young fools… and surely a real detriment to his expected advancement… ''

_Ah, G-d!_ Pascale almost shouted, but somehow she maintained her mask

of calm, unaffected interest. _Still you seek to persuade me that Neddy's brothers in arms carry the whole, entire blame for my losing the dear boy! Still you wish me to destroy yet another of Neddy's boon companions for you! Well I have followed your mad persuasion into Perdition's depths Dear Sir, but I will take not one step further!_

''Yes, yes, so you've said on many, many past occassions, Heydon Palmerston.'' She answered. ''And I have taken you at your word, at every conceivable turn along the way. I did so because you were my father's and my husband's friend and confidant, or so I also believed for quite some time. And I did so because I wanted to visit my own grief and loss and … yes, my own mad desire for retribution, wherever and on whomever I could lay the blame!''

''Those ruffians who pretended to befriend and support your tragic brother, ma'am…'' Moray began, all the while staring at the Widow, trying and failing to read her expression or her eyes.

''I don't wish to converse any longer on the subject of my dearest boys former cohort, old friend.'' the Widow told him flatly. '' Unless it is absolutely necessary, I would like you to agree that you and I shall not discuss those east Texans ever, ever again. You will agree to leave that painful subject, will you not, Heydon Palmerston, at my request, at the request of your friend, and the daughter, sister and widow of your friends, that is, myself, Eugenie Pascale?''

''Why assuredly I will, ma'am. Why should we dwell after all on such … unalterable matters?'' Moray shrugged, not looking at all nonchalant, the Widow considered.

'' We should not. I intend to concentrate the full extent of my remaining energies on the immediate future, Dear Sir, immediately I have resolved one or two other questions with you, now.''

'' And what would those questions be, Dear Lady? You know I will do, as I have to this instant, all in my power to accommodate your wishes.'' the prosecutor boldly lied.

'' First I would ask you, Dear Sir, speaking of old times and old friends and … debts remaining unpaid and such, where were you , Heydon Palmerston, when Atlanta fell and my dearest Neddy was taken prisoner by the infernal Yankees there? Where, to be precise, was your regiment in that terrible final autumn of the Conflict?'' Pascale asked, and had to hide her grin at the way Moray blanched and stammered before he could frame his answer.

''Ma'am, my regiment was following General Hood's command west across the entire breadth of Tennessee at that instant. That campaign, of course, proved another disastrous folly, I'm grieved to say. So many bright young, talented hearts and spirits were wasted, so many fine, even wonderful futures were thrown away at Franklin and at Nashville! '' Moray told her, which was the literal truth, he considered. His regiment was attached to John Bell Hood's command. Heydon Moray quite cleverly, as he'd long thought, merely managed to detach himself from that doomed mission.

''Ah, yes. That's what I remember you telling me, more than once, before now.'' the widow nodded. ''Yes. So you would never have encountered Neddy's friends, including young Harper, when he and his fellows were in the fighting around Atlanta, then?''

''Never, ma'am. Why would you ask me that, when I've already told you where … '' Moray started to ask and then shuddered and fell silent at the bitter look the widow Pascale gave him.

''Because, without consciously knowing or understanding he'd done so, without my fully grasping the import at first, this young stranger, this young Texan, and another of his friends, one Aaron Caulder, have put the lie to your version of events that fall, in Atlanta.'' Eugenie Pascale answered, her wide silver grey eyes shining with long misplaced rage.

_Caulder! _ Moray thought, fighting to keep from jumping as she spoke the late Sergeant's name. _No! She's heard the late Sergeant's name and built a fantasy atop it! She can't… She'll never prove what she's saying! After all, she's wholly mad and grasping at straws, now, seeking for anything to save a doomed young fool she either believes is her latest paramour or her late brother! _

''Madam,'' He protested. '' I'm not sure I wholly comprehend your meaning, now. Whatever lunatic's ramblings you may have heard from Harper, surely you've considered to be the rantings of a capricious, deadly dangerous, violent…''

''Madman?'' The Widow asked, finishing his declaration for him. '' No, My Dear Sir, that is not how I would ever describe my conversations with your latest target of lies, abuse and truly ghastly mistreatment! And I will ask you to hear me out now, and to hear me out in silence, old friend, or I will be forced to do what I had rather leave to those endowed with proper authority! Will you therefore keep silent now, or will you force me to make you silent for all time?''

Staring at her, his icy eyes twitching with evident fear and even more obvious signs of his own drug use, Moray nodded.

'' That is well. I'll continue with the genuine narrative of those bleak days around Atlanta in the autumn of 1864. You, sir, were somewhat, but not seriously wounded during the siege of that fine old city. You were not incapacitated, as you claimed to be, but rather, inconvenienced by that injury to your lower extremities. And being injured, you were taken into one of the receiving hospitals there, and remained there, from the days slightly before until well after the Yankees took the city. You will now nod, Heydon Palmerston to indicate your acknowledgement of the facts I've stated.''

Scowling but having little choice, Moray once more nodded.

'' Again, I continue: As the horrid working out of all our fates would have it, Dear Sir, my younger brother, my dearest Neddy brought his two wounded friends and comrades into Atlanta, and to that same hospital. Yes, my Neddy brought his younger friends from east Texas, Aaron Caulder and … Jess Harper to the same hospital where you were a patient. But you know that! You always have done! As I said, you were there and you were charged with working as a nurse… to other, far more seriously wounded boys. Nod again to make it clear to me that you know I am speaking only the truth of the matter.''

Again, the prosecutor nodded to her, his mouth a furious, taut line, his eyes blazing.

'' Yes, and as my brother, and Sergeant Caulder, and young Harper discovered then, you were at that time deeply mired in a great many terrible business dealings, Heydon Palmerston. You were a very busy man of affairs there in old Atlanta! You were keenly involved in amassing no small fortune. And every cent you took in then came from traitorous, treacherous, appalling profiteering on the black market, taking medicines and bandages, blankets, food and water from our over-burdened Southron people, and our valiantly struggling, bravely suffering boys in grey!

And as I said, all that, my dearest boy, my Neddy and his friends learned and noted, and confronted you with! And all that, as I said, Aaron Caulder and my brother took and kept in detailed records. All those records, Heydon Palmerston, despite the fact that you were using any number of false names then, show that you cheated, betrayed and robbed our bleeding, dying Nation!

And all those records are what you have spent every waking moment since that autumn seeking after, to utterly destroy them and their valorous young authors! Young Caulder and Harper didn't know who you were, naturally enough, they only knew your villainy and greed at a time when heroism and sacrifice were desperately needed. And they would have exposed you, then and there, old friend but you somehow managed to escape the city and the country altogether!

And I wish to G-d you'd taken your escape route immediately you knew you were exposed, and stayed in whatever despicable hiding place you found forever! But first, you decided you would shame my brother, my Neddy into silence! It was never my old neighbors in the Parish who told my brother those old lies about our Poppa. It was you, Heydon Palmerston! You did that, you came at him over, over, and over, because Neddy, the brother I loved and cherished and helped to raise recognized you without question and valiantly confronted you with his knowledge.

So, you decided Neddy would be the first target and first victim in your mad campaign of self preservation! And even when you'd achieved my brother's final destruction, even when you murdered Neddy six years ago in the Quarter, still you were afraid of exposure, still you craved more abuse, more lies, more terror, more ruin and more devastation! Because you were never going to be satisfied with taking the lives of three young heroes, were you? No, you were never going to feel safe, or satisfied again until you devastated or destroyed everyone who might have learned your pernicious secrets, anyone with whom those three boys might have shared their damning comprehension!''

'' Madame Pascale, I insist, I must insist you now admit you are very much mistaken!'' Moray called out, staring at her and putting up quite a good show of righteous indignation, he considered. '' I am a gentleman, ma'am, not a thief, not a swindler! I am the scion of an old, excellent Charleston family! I am an officer of the Court! … I… ''

''You are a liar, a conniver, a cheat, a fraud, and a poisoner, sir!'' Pascale shouted back. ''You are a black hearted destroyer! And one of those you decided you had to destroy lies here, badly harmed, but once more under my absolute protection. And another of those you believed you had to wipe out, my dearest, darling brother Neddy, lies in my family's crypt, these six years, now, in Saint Bernard's Church yard, in Saint Bernard's parish!

He lies there, because I never had the understanding I have now that you were someone boys like these must be protected from, sir! You are in no way, shape or form a gentleman! You are a miserable, callous, brutal dastard! I have done and ordered done horrendous things! And my own two hands run red with innocent blood, I know that, sir. But compared to yours, sir, they are nearly pristine! But now, I think all this must come to it's proper end, do you not agree with me, sir? Do you not believe all the horrors we've created between us, must come to it's proper end, now?''

''What we've created between us, madame?'' Moray echoed, alternately staring at her and looking around as if he thought she'd called her troops in to take him. '' I must insist, I do not know in the least what you have reference to. I have, at all times and under all conditions obeyed your orders, as the devoted widow of my old friend and Commander, General Pascale.

I have, under the most difficult of circumstances, supported and defended you against all comers, ma'am. I have supplied you with all you needed to know of those who spoke or worked against you, the Company or the grand endeavors. And all this I have done without any thought, much less receipt of remuneration in the slightest! ''

''Oh, do not worry on that account, Heydon Palmerston. The time has come at long last for you to be fully, rightfully compensated for all your countless efforts! ''the Widow answered.

'' And I am glad to hear that, ma'am, as my own backing of these ventures has sadly depleted … '' Moray began to say.

'' The funds you got from your filthy profiteering during the Conflict, Heydon Palmerston? Are those the resources of your elegant, arrogant, murderous, libelous, pseudo aristocratic way of living from the last years of the Conflict until now, that you refer to as depleted? My G-d, man, how much wealth does a villain such as yourself require to maintain his horrible existence?'' Pascale asked, not truly expecting any answer.

'' Madame Pascale, you have shown such tender concern for this young… interloper… '' Moray said, lowering his own tone and yet almost sneering at her. '' You were just pronouncing your contentment that he's fallen asleep. Surely you don't wish these angry tones and strange accusations of yours to wake him? Surely you don't wish him any further harm than what he's already suffered, at your instigation and by your directives, do you?''

'' What I have done and ordered done, Heydon Palmerston, I fully expect, and indeed intend to make full restitution for, to the last penny of my estate and the last drop of my blood, if need be.'' The Widow told him, moving quickly to keep between him and the cot on which Jess was stirring. ''I am even more well aware today, than I was after my first reading of one Aaron Benjamin Caulder's journals, of exactly what depths I have sunken to, these last six years, and of how that process actually began.

Ah, you are as surprised as my dear Lee Henry was, I see, to learn I've seen and read Caulder's papers. I see you don't know, as my brother didn't, that our poor murdered Colonel Howell, our dear Solomon in fact gave them to me, before he ever asked Lee Henry to decipher the Sergeant's intriguing, but not really difficult encryptions. Nevertheless, it was not only those sad and shocking records that told me what I should have known all this while.

It was also …''

'' This damnable young liar and menace, Harper?'' Moray insisted, striding closer to the Widow and her charge.

''Actually, no. What gave me the full understanding I have now were your own actions, against my Twin, of course, and then, even less necessary, your violent deeds against this boy and against My Company! You should not have acted the part of my family's friend when all you wanted was my family's fortune! You should not have sent your band of brothers to murder Solomon Howell, Addison Deveraux and attempt the murders of their supporters. Nor should you have instructed your allies to do all they could to set myself and my Dearest Twin at cross purposes.

Nor should you ever, ever, Heydon Palmerston, have told my dearest younger brother the black and heinous lies I now know you filled his mind with! That egregiously despicable old story was never believed by anyone in N'Olins! And yet you turned it against my Neddy, causing him the torment of believing that damnable calumny against his own father! You should never have come to me after Neddy died with yet more lies about him and his young friends from Texas.

And to close out the catalogue, you should never have lied to me, Heydon Palmerston, about my brother's last illness, when there was the least chance in the world that I could find you out and expose you! You are a contemptible conscienceless, utterly unimaginable dastard! You are a consummate deceiver, and an utter madman! And I will not allow anyone else I care for to be so much as threatened by you!'' The Widow declared.

Moray glared at the widow now as if he'd never seen her before, she thought. And perhaps that was accurate. It had been at least six years, to some extent since she'd felt at all herself as much as she did this instant. It had been more like ten, nearly eleven years since she'd felt genuinely alive. She'd not only lived, but perpetuated a nightmare. She was more than ready for an end. In that much, she knew herself sane, again. In what she meant to do now, she knew her long-lived madness remained, tempting her to

utter destruction.

And it was a bitterly strong temptation, one she'd failed to resist for so long. And all that… the widow shivered to realize was made all the worse by knowing she'd made common cause with this monster, the one she should have been seeking, should have long since uncovered and rendered limb from limb! No doubt he likewise wished to destroy her now.

And ironically she'd almost be glad enough to let him do so. But only if she could return the favor… Clearly he still underestimated the gigantic strength her aggrieved self loathing fueled, now. Perhaps, all she need do was to act the broken, vastly weakened creature he perceived. She studied his twitching, icy eyes and knew she could trip up this monster in the guise of a Charleston 'aristocrat' by simply displaying the frailty he believed she could never overcome. She knew what needed done. And she held herself ready.

'' And I have not suffered your insults and your mad caprices all these many years, Madame, to be robbed of my just recompense at the last instant! I wanted your family fortune you say, No, Madame, by this point, I've more than earned it! I lied to your Neddy, you say, well, I did more than that, Madame, I preyed upon him, even as his shameful dependence made him more and more needful of me! I lied to you about those Texas ruffians your precious brother befriended despite the evident bar to their association, you say?

_The devil you say, Madame, I was right, I was always right about that!_ Joining with those hooligans, those barely educated, barely tamed young savages, that is what ultimately destroyed the boy you and I both wished to cherish! And this damn young interloper, here? This damn fool dies now, as he should have ten years or three years, or at the least some three months ago! He dies, in the next few minutes, my Dear Lady, because in this syringe is enough morphine sulfate to stop the respirations of an elephant! And his death will be seen to be at your orders, Madame, I do assure you.

This is, after all, what you have all this while so greatly desired, is it not? Have you not longed to see this piece of human flotsam die of the same over dosage of narcotics that took your precious, dearest darling Master Edward Denys Augustin from you? Well, I took that precious, precocious, overly admired and finally utterly abandoned lad from your world, Madame. And now I will take the last of his cherished cohorts entirely out of the living world, as well!'' Moray all but screamed at her, and took one more long step across the room, to stand on the other side of the cot she guarded. Moving almost too swiftly for Pascale to watch, he pulled a syringe from his vest pocket, and swung his arm viciously, to put the needle against Jess' arm.

''No, Heydon Palmerston, you will not.'' Eugenie Pascale quietly responded, and lifting her right hand, she aimed and fired her derringer's two rounds unerringly into Moray's chest. Falling, and flailing as he did so, Moray somehow kept hold of the syringe, until he'd collapsed across the end of the cot. Dying even as he lay there, the prosecutor once more reached with all his remaining strength to drive the deadly dangerous device into Jess' leg.

''No!'' Pascale cried, as in the next instant, the Widow put her own left shoulder in the path of that needle. Her mauve silks were no protection, nor did she want any, now. The drug entered her system so near the heart as to all but stop its rhythm in another instant.

All she could do now, Pascale realized was to shove the dying prosecutor to the floor, and pray, however hopelessly that her young charge hadn't heard Moray's final, all too truthful accusations.

''Ma'am?'' Jess muttered, ending her hopes in that regard. '' Missus… Eugenie… did he… did he hurt you?''

''No, my lad. No.'' She whispered, laying one soft hand against his face. '' I'm … perfectly all right, now. I'm … happy… And you are safe, at long last… The nightmare… Our long nightmare's over.''

''You… you're shiverin'.'' Jess protested, squinting at her, and smiling when he saw her wide, amazing eyes smiling back.

'' Well, it's early morning, and someone must have left the dormers open.'' Pascale told him, with an ironic laugh. '' I… shall have to get after my boys … about that… Someone could catch… their death of cold!''

''Neddy…. I can remember him, now… Ma'am… He loved you… .terribly… '' Jess said, thinking that was the only thing he knew that might comfort her at all. ''He did, truly.''

''Ah, now that I know. He's never truly left me, you see, not in … any way that matters.'' The Widow answered. '' But I do thank you for sharing what you've… recalled. It was almost like having Neddy here, beside me, once again. Please, excuse me for a little while, my dearest Jacob, won't you? I … am .. I should be finding out what's become of … our dinner… ''

Slowly, laboriously she pushed herself almost to her feet now. But the drug, that in smaller doses might have warmed her or her patient, now sent a numbing chill through all her limbs and down into her core. Shaking her head, laughing at herself, she smiled at Jess again and sat on the bench beside his cot.

''I'm afraid you're plumb worn out, from fightin' him off, from helpin' me, again.'' Jess frowned. '' Please, you should just take it easy, now… He could've killed you!''

''Oh, no, no, you needn't fear that. I have a twin brother, you see and we've known all our lives that each of us could only die at the same moment as the other. So, you need have no fears for me, my Dearest Twin is alive and well, and thriving on … the challenges of the moment. He has, always… we both have, really.'' Pascale assured the boy she'd come to truly care for, almost as another younger brother. ''And you, I believe also have a brother and sister still surviving, don't you, Jacob?''

Jess shook his head, and managed half a smile. The way she said his birth name made him feel not only warmly cherished, but very much like a little boy again. And being able to remember his two living siblings felt like a thousand pound weight dropping off his shoulders.

'' Danny, an' Francie… yeah. Danny's takin' care of Granpa Nate's place, in east Texas, these days. That's… where we all grew up… for th' most part, he's stayin' there with his wife, Nell. Danny… probably thinks I plumb forgot 'bout him… I pretty much don't write… An' Francie… she's out in California… out near Sacramento… with Ben, that's her husband… Mebbee I already told y' this an' don't recall it… Francie' gonna …have a child… She wrote me… Ma'am? Are you sure you're all right now?''

''Of course I am!'' the Widow lied, turning back to him after letting her gaze drift awhile, knowing she couldn't keep this deception up much longer. ''And you really should be … resting… I'll just … ring for … my boys… to help you get … comfortable, again. And then I'll finish that last chapter of Mister Dickens' fine story for you.''

As the boy on the cot settled back, Pascale smiled and reached for the bell pull at the window beside her. Then she took his hand in both her own. She didn't reach for the book. She didn't need to open it or look, or listen any longer for her lost, beloved faces, voices and spirits, as they were crowding close around her again, finally, now:

"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward.

I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both.

"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life, which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place-- then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement --and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done, it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." [ Finis, A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens, 1860 ]

Her silken voice going silent was the first thing Jess remembered, later, taking note of. Her soft, hands sliding away from his as if they now belonged to a broken puppet, came next. Then her head of silvery-fair dancing curls bowed to rest against his pillows, and her slender form collapsed into his arms. Only then did the young east Texan see the fatal syringe falling from its hiding place amongst her silks.

''Ah, G-d!'' Jess whispered, his own voice strained and weakened, his eyes streaming tears he didn't care to stop. '' Ah, no! Ah, G-d, no! No, you can't be gone, not now! You can't be! Please, don't be gone! Please, don't be!''

Now, as if she were a sleeping child, Jess cradled her and rocked her, whispering his hopeless pleas into her shining locks, into her still warm shoulder, into her silk clad arm. He wanted nothing more than to see her bright eyes turning to smile at him, her soft hand reaching to lay against his face, or her warm voice, saying his birth name. And he knew none of that could ever happen.


	37. Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX Same day, the attic of Widow's Retreat's lodge

''Jess! Jess! Oh, thank G-d, Pard, we found you! Jess, are you all right? Pard? Is that the Widow? Is she…?'' Slim Sherman called out, racing into the dimly lit room just below the widow's walk's double doorway.

Still holding, still cradling the silent frame of the Widow, Jess lifted his head from her shoulder, blinking and squinting at his partner. '' Figure I am, Pard.'' Jess rasped out. ''But… but she's gone…''

''Cooper! Coop! Cousin, are you up here?'' Jemmy Singer called out, still running the scam he'd thought of, running into the room from the attic stairs.

'' Coop! I … '' The Carolinian said again and stopped short in the doorway taking in the sight of the two partners, and the two dead bodies, one still in Jess' arms, one on the floor now.

''Hey, Jemmy, ain't you a tad bit mixed up, boy?'' Jess asked, his mouth twisting in a shadow of his normal grin. ''Cain't you yet tell me from … ol' Nathaniel, runnin' up behind y' there? Speakin' of runnin', Cooper what th' devil's got you limpin' that way?"

"Oh, that, it's nothin, Jess, just nothin'." Coop insisted, grinning at his youngest east Texas cousin. " Must've fallen off a wagon or somethin'… Can't quite recall it, 's this you were sayin, anyhow? Jemmy _still can't tell us apart?_"

"Seems that way to me." Jess nodded "Mebbee this'll help, m' names' Jacob… Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith Harper. An' as it turns out, I'm startin' t' like it, just fine, these days.''

'' Figure I've always had a problem with that, Je… Jacob.'' Jemmy answered, striding over to get a better look at his younger Texas cousin. Coop, and Bill and Duke strode right behind him, with Adam , Teo and lastly, Lee Henry Morrissey, coming in the way Slim had.

''Eugenie!'' her brother cried out, rushing past all the younger men to stare and sob and wordlessly ask Jess to give her over to him. "Oh, Twin!"

'' She's … … she shot … Moray… t' save… t' save me. An' … he … he… '' Jess whispered, releasing her and watching Morrissey fold the woman's too-still form into his own arms. ''He was still comin at me with … with a needle. An' she moved… like … greased lightnin'… in between us… An' 'm … 'm real, real sorry… I cou… couldn't … didn't stop her, sir.''

''She wouldn't have wanted, or _allowed_ that, Mister Harper, I assure you.'' Morrissey answered, stroking his sister's hair and offering Jess a half smile very much like hers. ''She knew we'd done you too much harm, already. And I knew she'd do everything in her power… to stop our long-lived nightmare, finally.''

'' ' M sorry, but you're wrong there. She _never, never onct_ hurt me.'' Jess insisted, shaking all the while with adrenalin and exhaustion, blinking back the tears still brightening his eyes. '' I… I came … t' think a lot… of her.''

''Well, thank you, for that, at least.'' Morrissey murmured. ''She came to admire your courage under fire quite tremendously, as well.''

''We'd be glad to help you, if you'll let us, now, Mr. Morrissey.'' Adam told the grieving brother quietly.

''Senor, Senor Padron, '' Teo added, crouching to come eye to eye with Morrissey, who still sat cradling his sister. '' Estoy terriblemente triste por su perdida, senor. Puedo ayudar le? Por favor, Senor Lee Henry, puedo ayudar le propia con la muy valiente, y muy notable dama?''

Morrissey looked up from his sister's all too quiet frame and blinked, too numb to be surprised at seeing 'Tyler Pierce' smiling sadly at him. '' Ah, Tyler… ''

'' Mi nombre es Teodor Ulises Bracamante, Senor.'' Teo said and wondered how his erstwhile Commander could take still another shock. '' But I am still honored to know you. And I would be honored, once again, to offer you any service I may, in your trouble.''

''My troubles are over, as far as I'm concerned, now … Teodor, and so are Eugenie's, I'm more than glad to say. I … I believe I do require some assistance… Suddenly I seem to feel about ten times my age….''

Nodding, Teo reached to help Morrissey stand, with his burden. Better than anyone in the room just now, the Creole knew the remaining twin was not about to let her go, not yet. Coop and Duke, with some extra help from Bill and Adam, lifted Moray's body and carried it away now. Slim stayed behind and turned from watching Teo, and everyone in the attic but Jemmy leaving, to smile tiredly at his partner.

'' I think Jem wants to check you over pretty much tip to toe, now, Pard. But as soon as he gives the word, Jess, we're going to get you home!'' The rancher promised.

''Home?'' Jess echoed, and shook his head, remembering a similar conversation. ''Home? I think I kinda like that word…an' that idea… more an' more… these days, Pard. C'mon, I'm okay… C'mon an' cut me' loose, here, Jemmy! Mike's probably got Mose changin' his own teams, by this time!''

''No, Mike had my partner, Adam doing that, while we were at the ranch, Jess.'' Jemmy chuckled. ''And you look like ten miles of bad road in winter, Cousin!''

"Well, you don't look much better!" Jess said, suddenly gaping at his cousin from Raleigh. " Jemmy!… _Jemison Stephen Wesleyan Randolph Singer,_ what in blue blazes did you do to your arm!''

" Oh, that? I dunno, Jess, I think I must've just dropped it off, somewhere." Jemmy quipped. "You're the one who's been having the hard time, just lately."

''Yeah, well, that's pretty much just what I feel like!" Jess complained, shaking his head and rubbing wearily at his eyes. ''And danged worn out, I'd like t' add.''

''And just about to pass out cold, I'd like to add.'' Slim laughed, as his friend, his partner and his brother did just that.

translation:

''Senor, senor padron.'' Teo added, crouching to come eye to eye with Morrissey, who still sat cradling his sister. '' I'm terribly sorry for your loss, senor. May I help you? Please, senor Lee Henry, may I help you with the very brave, very remarkable lady, now?''


	38. Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN Sherman Ranch and Relay Station , 12 miles outside of Laramie, Wyoming Territory, the 1870s

Forty seven days [ and Jess is the one counting ] later:

Jess woke up again, and as he had a few score times since coming home, sat bolt upright on his bunk, frantically glancing from one side of his room and Slim's to the other. Swallowing hard, the young Texan reached for his bunk, the table and then the chair beside it, needing to make sure yet again that they and he were really here, really home. And he was. He'd been home over a month and a half now, flat on his back most of it, and watched like a hawk by Daisy, Mike, and Slim, Jemmy, Adam and Cooper, and sometimes even Mose and Mort.

He was getting well again. And that was something. His right shoulder felt fine, most days and his left leg … well, with one thing and another, that could take a little while longer. He'd just about got done though with the bouts of fever that shook him like a twister for the first week or two. The only real problem left, as Jess saw it, was the lingering weakness of his lungs from enforced heavy doses of narcotics. The coughing and wheezing he still woke up with more often than he'd like were the last remnants of a string of scary nights when he could hardly catch his breath at all.

And those scares were nothing, next to the driving fear Jess woke up to,

a few dozen times, before he was free of fever-dreams and most of his nightmares. He'd spent nearly two months, the young rancher knew now, heavily drugged on morphine injections and doses of laudanum in his food and drink. And that wasn't counting the rest of Moray's more 'interesting' concoctions, the ones that left him cold and sick, and the ones that came close to paralyzing or killing him outright!

"Jemmy," The Texan demanded, the first time he found himself thinking clear, and his North Carolina cousin sitting watch beside him. "You tell me, and tell me th' G-d's honest truth, now, Cousin: Did I come outa this nightmare hooked on … all that dope they gave me? Am I gonna go on … needin' it till it plumb does me in, like it did so many boys, when th' War was over?"

"No, Jess. Thank G-d, and the way you were hurt, you're not addicted. And it may not make sense to you the first time I say this, but it's because of how banged up you got." Jemmy answered, grasping Jess' arm and looking his cousin in the eye, now.

"You were, a couple steps down from being addicted, what some of the journals now are calling habituated. That just means that while you were hurting the worst, you needed more and more of those painkillers. But once you began to really get well, you didn't need **any.**

Once your body healed some, Jess, it took back the job of keeping that pain at bay, just the way it's supposed to. Yes, you're still sore and your hip especially is going to be complaining a while longer. But you don't have any more of the cramping or sickness or edgy feelings now, that you told me you had when they took you off the morphine for a few days back there.

And that's how I know for certain sure, Cousin. That's your body telling you and me, for that matter that it's done with those drugs, it's cleared them out, once and for all. You're not now, and you're not going to be an addict. And you should know by this time, Jess, I won't lie to a friend, much less a kinsman, much less a patient about anything like that."

Jess looked away, and back to the Raleigh native, with a small, crooked grin. " Figure I know that pretty well, Jem. Figure I've known that for quite a while… mebbee for just about…ever, an' just kinda let it slip… I know you're almost painfully honest, Cousin, except when it comes to those _stories_ you told me about leavin' your arm off somewheres an' plumb forgettin' about it!

No, never mind, Cooper an' Adam both took a minute t' fill me in. _Jemison Stephen Wesleyan_, you're a danged hero, savin' ol' Sam Grant's life on a regular basis, an' just never got around t' tellin' me?"

" No, _Jacob Emrys Sayre,_ I'm no kind of hero!" Jemmy responded in kind, frowning, but not nearly as darkly as he'd meant to.

"I'm **hugely **honored and privileged to work for the Man I respect and

revere only second in the world to my own father! And on top of that, he amazes me constantly by calling me his friend! And … I lost my arm **trying** to do the work he honors me with, to be in his service, more than anything else in my life has done. That's just how I see it. _no matter what_ Adam or Cooper, or anyone else may tell you. Does that satisfy you, Cousin?"

"Figure it'll just have to, for now, Cousin." Jess agreed, grinning wider. "Figure I might've felt th' same if I'd somehow gone t' work for ol' Joe Johnston, or Bobbie Lee, or ol' Stonewall, had he lived past th' Conflict."

"Figure you would!" Jem nodded. "Rest up, Jess, you're still recuperating. And that's just a '4-bit word' for slowly, carefully, getting better."

Now, with patience, determination and 'sheer cussedness', Jesse could crutch around the ranch house, or spend time on the porch, rockin' and joshin' with all and sundry, without getting exhausted or getting darkly disapproving looks from his 'own personal team of nursemaids'. But he couldn't go to sleep without one bewildering, bollixed up dream or another tossing him awake again and leaving him pretty nearly sleepless.

_Calm down, boy! _Jess told himself, sternly. _You're breathin' like you just_

_beat ol' Jemmy in another footrace! Jem's getting ready to head back t' the District as he likes t' call Washington City._

_Or maybe, he'll go over t' Norfolk and swim some of those Chincoteague ponies he's always yammerin about! He doesn't need to know you're _still_ havin' _those _nightmares! _

'' Still having those nightmares, Pard?'' Slim asked, quickly entering and crossing the small room to sit beside his friend.

'' Dunno, I can't hardly recall them, not once I get my peepers open, anyway.'' Jess sighed, not liking the fib he told, or himself much for the telling.

'' Well, I'll take your word for that, Jess.'' Slim said. ''But I doubt very much that Jem or Daisy, or even Mike will, at this point. So maybe you should try to recollect them and get them talked out… Seems like the talks you've

had with Daisy haven't exactly hurt you any. And I thought they helped.

I thought when we got some things talked out, that helped you, too, Pard.''

'' Sure it did.'' Jess nodded. '' Sure. I… just sometimes I get so steamed up… An' other times, I don' know what I dream an' what I really do remember… An' most th' time just lately, I feel like a danged fool, is all, Slim!''

''Well, that's never happened to you, or me, before, for that matter.'' his partner offered.

''Yeah, right! Not to you, Pard, not the way I managed… '' Jess protested, looking away, again. '' I … thought I … No, I know I fell in love! I told her I … loved her… An' I did, Slim! I thought she was … just about perfect! An' I told her that, too, for good measure!''

'' Jess… '' Slim started, stopped and started up again. '' You never really knew the woman. And, from what we've learned since then, I'm not so sure she knew herself, not any longer.''

'' Well, that's so… Pard, she … she was so purely… broken… She'd lost so much! Why wouldn't she go completely crazed? Why should anybody blame her?'' Jess asked dry-scrubbing his hands together and then taking them to his aching forehead.

''Most th' time … I think… I couldn't stand as much as she did. An ' then I think, who'm I? Who's Jess Harper, anyway, t' blame her? An' then it comes back t' me … She sent … her danged Company out after all those boys I rode with! She nearly had my cousin murdered! Cooper nearly died cause they thought he looks like me! An I … ''

''And you, what, Pard?'' Slim prodded, making Jess look him in the eye and thinking sure his friend and brother had to get this out and into words to try and understand what happened to him.

''I go back and forth on all this like a… stirred up nest of hornets! She sat for hours an' read t' me an' talked and smiled… '' Jess sighed. ''She laughed or hummed or … just looked at me an' I felt … safe, an' good an' … sure … when all th' while I wasn't sure of anything at all! An' now I know she … I remember she admitted settin' a trap for me… t' get hurt so bad I'd have to have those danged drugs in me for weeks on end!

But she' thought I was th' one who left her brother, Neddy … left him high an' dry in that hospital back in Atlanta, Pard! She thought I let those Yankee docs set me t' rights and lit outa there an' left th' boy… If I thought somebody'd done a thing like that t' Mike or Danny, t' Andy, or t' you… I'd surely go out an' take heads an ask questions sometime long after! You know I would, Slim! You know it!''

''I know how much our whole family, including Danny down in Texas and Francie and her baby out in California means to you, Jess. Of course I do. But, no, Jess, I don't know and I don't believe you'd go out on that kind of vengeful rampage. That's not who you are, and that's not what you do, my friend. All right! I see your face getting long enough to dust the floorboards, Pard, what's wrong, now?''

Jess shook his head and rested his chin on his clenched fists, _just to keep it off the floorboards. _

''Jess, you've got me started. And you have to know I'm not stopping till we get this done. So answer me.'' Slim insisted.

'' Oh, nothin' much.'' Jess finally muttered. '' An mebbee you already heard me yammerin on about this, whilst I was fevered up …Only… seems like just this once our own Gen'rl Cooper… meanin th' one who's likely got one of her ears pressed against th' doorjamb, right now this minute… wasn't right about me, Pard. I am… I'm purely crazed, y' see.''

''And just what makes you think I'm wrong about that, Jess, dear?'' Daisy said, leaving her listening post to join her older boys' discussion.

'' Daisy… '' Slim protested, thinking maybe Jess had something to say he wasn't ready to share with their surrogate mother.

''Naw, it's all right, Pard.'' Jess shook his head. '' Daisy…you've got every right t' know this… Seems like I spent a few weeks with a mortal lot of purely crazed people. An' th' reason I said … I don't exactly agree, with you… is… A lot of that time, what they said made a mort of sense t' me. So just how else would y' explain that, Gen'rl Cooper, ma'am?''

''Quite easily, really.'' Daisy smiled sitting down on the other side of Jess' bunk to talk with both her older sons.

''You have a very quick mind, Jess, and even more important, a greatly compassionate, understanding heart and spirit. That's the first part. The second part, is something I now know for certain you have in common

with Cooper, Jemison and that young Sean Oriel Hoynes, as well as having

it in common with … the people who abducted you, dear. You all were born and raised as Southerners, and except for Jemison you all fought for the Confederacy, and suffered everything the War's ultimate outcome cost you and your homeland. That's something neither Slim nor I nor anyone born and raised in the North can truly comprehend, I think. And honestly, I hope we never will, Jess.

So, it's not the least bit 'crazed' to empathize with people who grew up in much the way you did, and apparently had little or no help when they were faced with such enormous losses. You suffered terrible losses, Jess, and not without the scars to prove it. And that's the third and last part of how I understand, and how I know it's not the least bit crazy for you to feel other's tragedies very deeply. That _is_ who my middle son is. And that's _just exactly_ what he does. Now, I have a roast to check on and a pie crust to finish, so I'll get back to my kitchen. But… '' Daisy said, standing up and planting a motherly kiss on Jess forehead.

''But, what?'' Jess and Slim chorused.

''But, Jess has another visitor, one who's been waiting patiently for his older brothers to get done with their grown folks yammering. And who got all his chores and all his homework done before he even asked to come and talk with Jess for a short while, until he cleans up for supper. And, Jess, after

this next visit, will you please take your medicine and try to rest a bit more before supper time?''

'' Sure, Daisy. 'mean t' say, Yes, ma'am Gen'rl Cooper, ma'am!'' Jess told her, with a much more Jessian grin spreading across his face now. Then he called out: ''Hey, Mike, when were y' gonna come on in here, Tiger?''

''Right now, Jess!'' the youngster called back, racing into the room and all but tackling Jess with the fervor of his hugging.

'' Well, if you gentlemen will excuse General Cooper and myself, ma'am?.'' Slim grinned and offered their surrogate mother his arm, as they walked back into the main room of the ranch house.

''So, what's up, Tiger?'' Jess asked the boy he realized more and more each day had been deeply worried and not a little marked by their family's latest ordeal.

'' Well, I wanted t' ask y' Jess. If y' don't mind.'' Mike started and stalled.

'' Mike, I can't think of anything I'd mind that you'd want t' ask me.'' Jess told him.

'' Well, Jess, you already know that me an' Slim an' Aunt Daisy got t' meet your cousin Jemmy, an' his friends, an' your cousin Cooper… while they were here… helpin'. An' so you already know that I found out Cooper was that surprise you talked about… that you could mebbee bring back with you… '' Mike told him, grinning ear to ear.

'' Because some folks have got th' notion Cooper an I look kinda like each other.'' Jess nodded. '' You got that figured just fine, Mike. An' I know you ran th' place real well while I was… wasn't here. What else did you want to know, lil' Pard?''

'' Well, when you got home, you had a pretty bad bout or two of fever…

An when Aunt Daisy let me come in an' help an' give you some water, sometimes… you … Jess, it was like you looked right at me an' called me Alec. An' if it's all right, I just wondered why you might've called me that… Am I like … your little brother that Cooper was tellin' Aunt Daisy… '' Suddenly, Mike's wide grey eyes grew even wider, and his face grew bright red.

''Gosh! I'm sorry, Jess! I warn't supposed' to be listenin' t' Cooper talkin

t' Aunt Daisy! An' … I guess I warn't supposed t' let on … Gosh, I'm awful sorry!'' the boy exclaimed, and turned as if he'd run out faster than he'd

run in.

''Mike, wait!'' Jess demanded. '' I'm not mad at you. An' in fact, I'm glad y' heard ol Cooper talkin about my brothers. He talked about Danny too, I'd have to guess.''

'' Yeah, 'mean t' say, yes. He said Danny gets t' almost flyin' around … your Granpa's house … down in Nag… Nac… Naco… '' Mike tried and stumbled over the old Spanish word.

''Nacogdoches.'' Jess finished for the boy, smiling a bit tiredly at him. ''It's a real funny soundin' name for an old town, now ain't it? An' Danny… he gets around really well… I hear tell he crutches around better than I do, havin' a lot more practice. An' Mike, you brought up somethin' I knew I wanted t' tell you… Somethin' I want very much for you to understand. So, will you try your best to get what I'm gonna say, now, Tiger?''

''Sure, Jess! I promise!'' Mike answered with all the enthusiasm in his young heart and spirit.

''Fine, then. Mike, my little brother Alec… had kinda sandy hair an' grey-green eyes. An' he was growin' so fast he was always either stumblin' over Danny's hand-me-downs, or comin' out the ends of his old shirt sleeves and pants legs, all the time. So, in that way, you sometimes put me in mind of my little brother, who momma an' Daddy named for my uncle Alec, who got named for my Granddaddy Elias Alexandre Harper.

But the way you put me most in mind of my brother Alec, is how quick you can pick up on anything you're given to learn, Mike, an' how fast you can figure just about any puzzle or put something that got busted back together. That all means you're really smart, Mike, and so was Alec.

But now I'm gonna tell you the most important thing I kept tellin myself I wanted and needed and would come home and tell you… just as soon as I ever could. It's this, Mike: You are my little brother. We're both brothers, with Slim and Andy, but in a special way, the same way Slim and me are. And the reason it's so special is we decided we'd be each other's family, each other's brothers. And we decided we wanted Daisy to stay and be a real good mother for us all, here. '' Jess said, blinking hard, against the emotions welling up in him, so he could finish.

'' So you … Mike, I hope you'll understand that and one thing more: What brothers do, is they love each other, no matter what they do or what they've done, no matter where they are, or who else they're with, and that's forever. An' l love you, Mike. An' I'm real glad I got home again t' tell you so, Tiger. Cause nothin' I've ever known matters more to me than just exactly that.''

''Nothin' matters more than our family, Jess.'' Mike nodded, and hugged his big brother again fiercely. '' Now, since I'm already in here, I'll just help you remember t' take your med'cine, all right, big brother?''

'' All right, little brother.'' Jess sighed and warily measured off the thankfully small spoonful he still needed to fight a nagging cough. '' Hope you never, never need t' take this stuff. It tastes purely awful!''

''Yeah, I know, I watched ol Jemmy an' Aunt Daisy makin' it, Jess… You don't even want t' know what they put in it!'' Mike giggled. ''But you still gotta take it, Jess, now stop yer stallin!''

'' Aw, Gosh!'' Jess exclaimed, but obeyed, grimacing as he downed the liquid. '' Not another nursemaid!''

''Nope, another little brother.'' Mike corrected him. ''An' reckon come this winter, I'll have me a baby nephew, even if he's out in California!''

''Dunno, Mike, could be Francie will have a baby girl. There's just no tellin'.'' Jess grinned back.

''Well, sure there is!'' Mike happily exclaimed. ''There's you an' me, Slim an' Andy, Danny, down in Texas, Cooper, out with his train, an' Jemmy who'll be back in Virginia by that time. Jess, it's just plain certain we'll have us a nephew… _our _family runs t' boys!''

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ


	39. Epilogue

EPILOGUE-- Eight months later, Marion County, east Texas

" Here, where it began for so many of us, in so many ways, and went on, far longer than we knew, we now, today, call an end to our War, forever." Cooper Smith announced, looking out over the crowd standing in the misting rain of a winter day, feeling very much as if he was calling up the eloquent tone and the fiery, loving spirit of his grandfather and namesake.

"And to do just that, we dedicate this site, and the markers you've placed here, in loving, honored memory of nearly a hundred boys and men, and

the people who loved them, who fell in another kind of battle, long after their service should have been ended and rewarded. They fell, they were lost, because they were the brothers in arms, or the families of those same 'brothers' who made up the roster of Company H, 8th Texas Cavalry, also known by the name of it's founder, as 'Terry's Rangers'.

Each of these markers bears the name of one of these friends and brothers and family, to all of us, really. And we're going to simply read those names off, now, while the young ones here lay flowers next to each one, yellow roses, of course. But I'm not going to start calling this roster that will never be answered, until we're all up in Glory. That task falls to my life long friend, my brother in all but name, and my cousin, Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith Harper. Jess, c'mon up here, and let's get this goin."

Sighing, blinking back some of the mist in his eyes that wasn't from the weather, Jess walked up to the simple rostrum Coop was stepping away from. He was glad to be taking these steps without even a cane to steady them, now. He was glad to see so many friends, neighbors and kin gathered.

And his heart was breaking for who wasn't there.

"Company H, Texas 8th Cavalry," Jess intoned, his voice breaking at times. "And their families, who've gone on ahead, along with them. Abram Adair, Thomas Adair, Andrew Alford, Thaddeus Alford, Addie Alverton,William Alverton, Arthur Averill, Isaac Averill, Asher Ayres, Jacob Ayres,

Abel Belden, Sam Belden, Abraham Bingham, Reese Bingham, Aidan Bristow, Reuben Bristow, Randall Bromley, Alys Bromley, Melissa …Burke-Caulder, William Aaron Burke-Caulder, Perry Burnham, Eleora Burnham, Raphael Byrne,

…Aaron Caulder, Beatrice Caloway,Joseph Caloway, Nelson Carey, Moira Carey, Lytle Chambers, Althea Chambers, Nolan Cobb, Naomi Cobb, Nicholas Cochran, Ruth Cochran , Corwin, Paxton Corwin, Parker Comstock, Micaela Comstock, Nathan Conyers Thea Conyers, Niall Corbin,Tabitha Corbin, Kenan Crown, Rhesa Crown,Morgan Cullen, Kate Cullen

Jackson Danforth, Celia Danforth, Isaac Darst, Sianna Darst, James Dearden, Margery Dearden, Jake Dorland, Mered Dorland, Harrison Dorset, Miriam Dorset, Griffin Dudley, Antonia Dudley,Frank Dunham, Alexandra Dunham, Jacob Dunstan, Eleanor Dunstan Henry Dyers, Raissa Dyers…"

"My turn, Cousin," Jemmy Singer said, quietly now, striding up, to hug Jess close. "Go on, and put that left leg up… I saw you favoring it, so no excuses."

"Oh, no, sir, Doctor-General Singer, sir, no sir!" Jess quipped in reply. But he hugged Jem just as warmly and then 'followed orders'.

"To continue, then," Jemmy told the silent, quietly saddened gathering. "Floyd Eberlee, Jessamyn Eberlee, Elisha Edmonson, Rebecca Edmonson,

Elijah Etherton, Rachel Etherton, Eli Fairholm, Rowena Fairholm, David Fatheree, Siobhan Fatheree, Ethan Fielder, Jael Fielder,Edward Fowler, Leah Fowler,

Davis Godsey Timothea Godsey, Clarence Gallaher, Clem Haskins, Corrin Herndon, Ceallach Hernshaw Brenn Hirschfield,, Conor Holland, Conal Holmes, Breen Holt, Beaufort Ingham, Beauregard Kennicot, Bryant Leland, Aubrey Lanier, Asher Lilly, Arthur Lewiston, Addie Langston

Abel Massey, Thomas McCarty, Thaddeus McDaniel, Andrew McHarg, Yitzak McKethen, Abram Mochrie, William Moore, Edward Denys Augustin Morrisey, the Second, Abraham Morrison, Sam Nance, Reuben Needham, Reese Northcote…"

" I'll finish the list now, Jemmy." Daisy Cooper said, walking up to stand beside the young doctor, surprising everyone there except those who knew and loved her.

"I'd never say no to a lady, Missus Cooper, ma'am, and especially not to my great aunt Daisy." Jemmy grinned, and leaned down to kiss her in an entirely dutiful fashion.

" Well, that's good to know. And I'm sure it will come in handy, sometime" Daisy grinned back and turned to face the mourners. "Thank you all for

being here today, and for being patient while we complete this roll of honor. Randall Ockham, Raphael Ockley, Perry Ogden,

Nolan Parmer, Nelson Perrot, Parker Pryce, Paxton Putnam, Niall Raymer, Kenan Rector, Morgan Reeves, Joseph Rhodes, Lytle Roarke,

Nicholas Rowle,Nathan Ryan, Jake Schuyler, James Seaton, Henry Sevilley, Griffin Shaw, Frank Shehan,Isaac Southwell, Harrison Spencer, Jacob Sullivan, Jackson Sutphen, Ethan Thompson, Edward Tichenor,Elijah Trelawney, Elisha Tremaine, Eli Trevelyan,

Davis Vedder, Clarence Vesey,David Voorhees, Conor Wakefield, Beauregard Waller, Conal Wardlaw, Conal Wardlaw, Clem Weller,Breen Weyland, Corrin Whiting, Ceallach Wickham, Brenn Winslow, Beaufort Winterton, Bryant Yager, and Aubrey York." Daisy finished the roll and smiled tearily at her family, which had expanded again, she clearly saw, to include Jemmy, Adam, and Cooper, Duke, and Bill, not to mention Chris, who intrigued the widow Cooper greatly. They'd all come to east Texas for this memorial, bringing Charlie, Barnaby and Kate, who seemed to intrigue Jess quite a bit, with her sharp manner and bright grey eyes, along. And alongside these 'new additions', were those Daisy claimed as her own 'by extension': Danny and Nell Harper, Francie and Ben McKittrick, and the very latest addition, Edward Denys 'Neddy'.

But nothing and no one made Daisy smile more brightly and rejoice more completely than the sight of her own 'brood', Slim and Jess, Mike, Andy

and Jonesy. They were all together again, standing shoulder to shoulder, or rather sitting, to spare Jonesy's back and Jess' [ however reluctantly admitted] sore leg. And the look on her son's faces at this moment, sad and proud and grateful for each other, Daisy knew would last her, and them, a lifetime… or more.

ANOTHER BEGINNING

[ 5:52am CDT, May, 21, 2008]

**Cast of Characters **

--[As this is fanfiction, with the usual handful of new characters introduced to the kindly readers, I thought this listing might be helpful. Yes, I'm also an old movie nut :) Rielle]

**Laramie characters:**

Spring Byington as Marjorie Alys 'Daisy' Torrance Cooper

Robert Fuller as Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith ' Jess' Harper

Dennis Holmes as Michael Timothy 'Mike' Williams.

Jacqueline Scott as Francine 'Francie' Harper Brady McKittrick

Jim Davis as Ben McKittrick

John Smith as Matthias McGregor 'Slim' Sherman', Jr.

**Wagon Train characters:**

Robert Fuller as Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper 'Coop' Smith'

John McIntire as Liam Christopher Hale

Barbara Stanwyck as Kathleen Elisabeth 'Kate' Crawley

Terry Wilson as Liam 'Bill' Hawks

Denny Miller as Christopher 'Duke' Shannon

**Offscreen Laramie/Wagon Train family characters**

Katherine Hepburn as Elisabeth Micaela Cooper Smith

Barbara Stanwyck as Meredydd Jennifer Cooper Harper

James Stewart as Daniel Webster Smith

Henry Fonda as Francis Marion 'Frank' Harper

**Mac Macquillan's team **

Charles Aidman as Daniel Webster Hoffner

Robert Conrad as Jemison Stephen Wesleyan Randolph Singer, MD

Ross Martin as Adam Auriel Elisha Gordonson

Tim Matheson as Sean Oriel 'Ori' Hoynes aka Rafael Tierney John Spencer as Thomas Michael 'Mac' Macquillan Victor Webster as Tobias Jeremy Hoffner

**Field Agents:**

John Colicos as Noach Thieroux 'Thierry' Deveraux, Rev

Jackson Deforest Kelley as Gabriel Dureau Colville, MD

David Fumero as Matty Hearkins

Forbes March as Miller Nash

Kyle Brandt as Chris Phillipsen

Bryan Dattilo as Jemison Randolph Alexander

Michael Easton as Kieran 'Kiery' Tanner

Thaao Penghlis as Giles Toussaint Boudin

Tommy Lee Jones as Addison Deveraux

Roark Critchlow as Brody Hamilton

Cameron Matheson as Mickey Stewart

Glenn Corbett as D'arcy Traherne

and

Kamar de los Reyes as Teo Bracamante

**The bad guys: 'The Company' **

James Stacy as Ezekiel Adamson

Powers Boothe as Josiah Ian Ashford

Seth Hall as Adam Moray Denholm

Bruce Michael Hall as Abel Stuart Denholm

Vincent D'onofrio as Miguel Roberto Geronne

Doug McClure as Devin Cleary Hoynes

Efrem Zimbalist, Jr as Beauregard Campion Hamilton

Anthony Perkins as Solomon Howell

Matthew Ashford as Andrew Devlin 'Dev' Jackson

Gary Dourdan as Phillips Johnston

Michael Ealy as Jamey Johnston

Frank Langella as Heydon Palmerston Catesby Moray

Anthony Zerbe as Lee Henry Richard Morrissey

Salome Jens as Eugenie Isabelle Morrissey Pascale

Robert Kelker Kelly as Brady Beauregard Reid

Cameron Matheson as Micheal Liam Stewart*

Ron Perlman as John Quincy Adams Stuart

Patrick Swayze as Chance Charles Albert Stuart

Clayton Rohner as Timothy Conal Niall Tierney

Harrison Ford as Joshua Zadkiel Whelan

**Offscreen characters tied to the Company:**

David Jannsen as Phillips Napier Pascale

Jeffrey Carlson as Edward Denys Augustin Morrissey, 2cnd

Brad Pitt as Nathaniel Remiel Whelan

**Bad girls/'red-headed women' **

Stockard Channing as Constance

Suzanne Rodgers as Naomi

Joanne Woodward as Thea

6


End file.
